


the two Crowns.

by hicsvntdracones



Series: hq asoiaf au [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Multi, asoiaf au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 112,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hicsvntdracones/pseuds/hicsvntdracones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bastard prince Tobio was named the true heir of the Seven Kingdoms but is banished by Tooru who takes the king's crown instead. Tobio is forced to flee south to the Dornish court where he grows a rebellion to overthrow Tooru and take back his rightful throne. (there's so much more than just that, but it would take nine million hours to explain.) </p><p>it's a haikyuu!!/asoiaf au, y'all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the banished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh. so. this au has been almost two months in the making and has too many layers to keep straight. chapter are written 3rd limited, so they follow one character like in the original asoiaf series and then switch. please go check my tumblr for a proper list of characters to help you stay on track. i'll probably post a list of pairings by chapter as well. i'll update tags as the chapters progress, but there will be multiple relationships and - guys, it's a game of thrones au - there will be deaths throughout the course of this story. each chapter will have its warnings in the beginning notes, but know that anything is fair game in this (really really) fucked up universe. rating will change.
> 
> pairs: dai/suga/yui. kin/kage. hint of oi/kage if you squint.  
> tw: uh. kinda non-con. great way to start off an au, i know, sorry.

Half sick from the sea, half delirious from the heat, Tobio vomits as soon as his feet hit solid ground. Everything spins above, and the whitecloak to his left steadies him. The heat overwhelms, it presses down and down and suffocates the prince. His traveling cloak is too heavy, his doublet too tight. It is all too much, and instead of waves hitting harbor walls, Tobio hears the King tearing paper between his two cruel, too harsh hands and the word _banished_.   
  
The man who greets him has gentle eyes, too gentle for Tobio to recognize as anything other than trickery. He eases off his black mount and approaches with a smile that puts Tobio on edge. When he extends his hand in greeting, there is no knife pressed suddenly into his gut and that throws the prince off more than anything.  
  
"Welcome to Dorne, Your Grace. I am Koushi Sugawara of Starfall, and the Prince has asked me to see you safely to the palace." Starfall, Starfall, Tobio repeats in his head. The pale hair, the strangely kind eyes. They seem so familiar. He bites back a gasp but can't help the knee-jerk reaction to take his hand away when he remembers the rumors surrounding this man. The lordling had been present at the King's crowning, he recalls. Most lords had brought their advisors, but Koushi was not only this to the Prince of Dorne. Tobio feels flushed, but not simply from the heavy clothes. If he is offended by Tobio's realization, Koushi does not show it and merely turns to make the next introductions. His attention is peaked when a dark-skinned guard with a fierce glare is named Ryuunosuke. Instead of embarrassment for the rumors about Koushi, Tobio is angered by the presence of this man. Ryuu, that was what the Hound called him when the moon was high in the sky and no one was around to hear. A bastard thief brought to greet the bastard prince. Tobio notes that the Prince must have a particularly odd sense of humor.   
  
Ryuunosuke matches his scowl and then some, unafraid of the sea-green boy who is steadied only by a new knight behind him. Yuutaro himself is only a few months older than Tobio, and the King had just barely laid a sword upon his shoulders when they were sent south. He looks awkward and too tall in the white, and Tobio hopes bitterly that he is boiling inside his armor.   
  
A sweating serving boy hands Tobio the reigns to his mount when Koushi signals to the group that they will be leaving the docks. His horse snorts in frustration, full of pent-up energy, and shifts restlessly until Tobio pets her snout carefully. To his right, Yuutaro has already seated himself and is grasping his reigns tightly. They have not spoken a word to each other since the first night of their voyage from the capital, and the prince prefers it this way. After mounting, Koushi approaches him to the left, but his gaze is not focused on Tobio.  
  
"Your name, good ser?" His smile never fades. Always gentle, too gentle, Tobio thinks.  
  
"Yuutaro Kindaichi, of Brightwater Keep."  
  
"Of the Kingsguard, you mean." Tobio says through gritted teeth. His knuckles whiten as he grabs the reigns. The mare beneath him stirs uneasily, wanting to run and keep running. The stillness upsets her, and Tobio does not bother to shush her as she stomps and jerks her head this way and that. Yuutaro's own horse jolts back a step to avoid her.  
  
"Of course. Yuutaro of the Kingsguard." Koushi interjects. "The past two weeks at the capital have been so eventful that it's easy to forget all that occurred. A new King, a new Hand, and then you're made a Kingsguard on top of it all. It's a lot to take in, I'm sure." His comments are supposed to ease the tension between the prince and his knight, but it only makes Tobio dwell on darker thoughts. The lordling switches topics from the capital to Dorne. It is not a long ride to the palace from the harbor, but it is long enough for Tobio to hear about the apartments he will reside in, how court normally functions in Dorne, all manner of things. Most of it does not quite register with Tobio; he is too busy watching Sunspear.  
  
The city chatter draws all his attention. The excited southern accents shouting about market prices. A woman yelling at her son whose clothes are covered in mud as he runs past the parade of horses. They ride in the middle of the group, so the sand kicked up by the front men irritates Tobio's sight. He squints and catches sight of Yuutaro shielding his eyes. The Dornish seem unfazed, more troubled by the sight of strange colors in their desert town. Deep blue and green the color of the sea next to armor of pure white draw everyone's attention as they pass. It is strange, alien, and instantly recognizable. They know the banished prince has come to Sunspear.  
  
  
  
They are offered wine and bread and cheese when they arrive, and Tobio forces himself to eat the bread and drink a sip of the wine. The bread is fresh and the wine is strong, and Tobio feels sick. He can still feel the sea rocking him side to side and echoes of the capital plague his mind with every moment that passes. The presence at his side is a heavy reminder of the King's unfailing grip on Tobio. A Kingsguard is meant to protect, but this one is meant to torment. Tobio knows. The whitecloak must feel sick as well, because he can barely stomach the food offered and likely only does so for the protection it brings. Koushi directs everyone everywhere; the horses are taken to the stables by a half dozen grooms. The servants who presented the food hustle back to the kitchen with a low bow. Ryuunosuke stands rigidly next to Koushi until the lordling leans over and says something in a low tone that sends him stalking off down the left corridor. Tobio sees a flash of fire darting across his side vision but is too engrossed in his own thoughts to turn and look. This place is nothing like the capital, nothing like the Keep. He ponders if the Prince will be of the same sort of ruler as the King, and he dares to pray not.   
  
Sunspear and her palace moves all around him in a blur until suddenly Koushi speaks, calm and steady, with an outward wave at the opening doors.   
  
"Your Grace, the Prince would like to welcome you to the court of Dorne."   
  
The grand set of double doors engraved with the Prince's blazing sun creak open, but Tobio is glued in place. Swirls of smoky incense billow out from the chamber and curl around the men standing there. He breathes in earth and sharp citrus, a smell unlike anything he has known before. The Great Sept smelled of frankincense and never brought the prince any of the holy visions they claimed to invoke. Prayer was nonexistent for him. The gods had never favored him, so why bother. Even when he was completely alone, Tobio could always feel a pair of eyes fixed onto him, haunting him like a ghost that grappled at his sleeves from the shadows, tried to drag him down, down. Down.   
  
Yuutaro sways a half step and brings Tobio back to Dorne. Their pale-haired escort steps forth and advances inside. The ten men in purple and gray follow their lord and then it is Tobio's turn. The heel of his boot clicks once on the ground, then once again. He moves. Step by step, he proceeds through the vaulted doorway and the farther he walks, the more he raises his gaze from the tiled floors to the throne at the end of the hall. He watches as Koushi ascends the steps and bends one knee before the first throne and though his vision is blocked, Tobio can tell that the man leans forward and captures Koushi's lips with his own for a moment too long to call casual. Koushi then goes to the second throne and bends the knee again before standing to lean and kiss the woman in the same way he kissed the other. His gut twists into knots, and the smell of incense is too much. The white cloak to Tobio's right slows his pace to an almost standstill, and Tobio stops as well. The Dornish voices that followed him down the hall fall silent as he focuses on the sun burning on the dais above and his descent to where Tobio stands.   
  
"Your Grace, prince Tobio, it is my honor as Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear to welcome you here at court and welcome you here to our home." A ring of suns sits upon the Prince's brow, and Tobio stares at it as he approaches. He remembers him well. His voice resonates easily inside the dome towering high over them and its steady cadence calms something in Tobio. Dark, dark eyes stare at him in evaluation, intrigue. He was the only one who fought for Tobio at court that day. The Reach backed up their own blood, the Riverlands cowered to contradict the already crowned, and the North turned their backs and refused the debate altogether. But Dorne vied for Tobio, they argued for his throne, and now Dorne was the only land which would accept him. The banished prince, the should-be King stands before Daichi, ruler of Dorne.   
  
"I —" He struggles to speak under the weight of his gaze. Now only an arm's length away, he stands almost eye to eye with the other, and every word Tobio speaks is forced. "I thank you, Prince Daichi, and am equally honored to be here." The smile that blooms on his face is not of pure courtesy; its sincerity is so foreign that it pains Tobio. He does not return the gesture.   
  
"Allow me to make some introductions." Daichi turns and steps towards the dias once more where the woman rises to her feet at the same time Koushi rose on the other side. Earlier, Tobio had been too distracted by the Prince to realize Koushi had taken his place at the right of Daichi whereas the woman sat to his left. His seat is curved and inlaid with ivory that crossed its two legs, the sort of seat a regent might rule from. The woman's own throne bears the blazing sun of Dorne to complete her husband's spear throne. Koushi offers her his arm for her to take and they descend together. Her long gown trails lightly on the steps behind them; a ringlet of golden flowers sits atop her short wisps of hair. Tobio recognizes her before Daichi speaks.   
  
"Yui of the Arbor, my lady wife and Princess alongside me." He takes Yui's hand gently in his own when she comes near and leads her to where Tobio stands unmoving. Yui is of the Reach, Tobio knows. For three years, the Reach and Dorne had peace due to the marriage here before him. She curtsies out her silken skirts in respect and speaks eagerly,   
  
"Your Grace, as my lord husband said, it's an honor to have you with us. I'll be glad to attend to any needs should you not find something to your liking." Tobio's stomach will not unclench the tight knot it has wound itself into. The throne room feels too thick with the scent of earth, and his head is still spinning from the Dornish sun beating down upon it for the entire morn. He understands the politics at play but not the other side. He does not understand this Dornish kindness.   
  
"You have already been introduced to Koushi, heir of Starfall, advisor to the court here, and our dear paramour." Daichi lets go of his wife's hand with a kiss on her knuckles before putting his free hand on Koushi's back. A dozen different rumors whisper themselves in Tobio's ear. The Prince and his paramour, the lady of the Reach who lay barren while a bastard ran about. He thinks about the gossip of a Dothraki man or the assassin in black. It is not as if Tobio had never seen such things; one can find any manner of men in the capital from deadly to demure, warriors to prostitutes. However, a paramour is another matter entirely. He cannot dwell for more than a moment on the King's own situation before Daichi drops his hand from Koushi's back and guides them towards a man in identical colors to Daichi. When he entered the throne room before, Tobio had glanced over this man unthinkingly. He has the same olive skin as Daichi, same dark eyes save for a downward glance ever so often whereas Daichi watched unfailing, unafraid. He bows his head to Tobio as Daichi speaks.   
  
"My younger brother and the second Prince of Dorne— Chikara."  
  
"Your Grace." Chikara echoes and lets the conversation die there. The others have already spoken honors of having a royal in Dorne, he must have sensed Tobio's discomfort in it all. Beside him stands a striking woman with a mark below her lip. Her raven black hair frames a milk white face, and her deep black silk gown pools around her ankles. The lady is shorter than Tobio, but her posture makes Tobio remember his own upbringing and how he only came into this lord's lifestyle just five years past. She extends a hand for him to take as she curtsies and does not break the shared gaze.  
  
"The lady Kiyoko of Kingsgrave who guards the Prince's Pass. She does not reside at Sunspear but traveled to bid your grace welcome." 

A man with blonde hair and a scowl reminiscent of Ryuunosuke is introduced as the Master at Arms, and then there is the captain of the Dornish fleet. A fumbling man in gray robes is the new Maester after the septon and septa bow low and long to the young prince. A light-skinned boy who Tobio guesses is his own age stares vaguely to the side and adjusts his beige and gray scarf before folding his hands neatly before him. When Daichi stops to introduce him, Tobio sees another boy standing just to his left who is not nearly as eye-catching. He is plain and dressed in typical Dornish clothes of colors matching the boy before him. The only thing to note are the freckles splashed across his dark skin. The taller one moves his head only slightly to seemingly acknowledge the Dornish lord before resuming the air of disinterest and dissatisfaction. Tobio feels his blood go hot when the blond refuses to meet his gaze, and the fidgeting other only furthers his aggravation. 

"Kei Tsukishima, the second son of Yronwood, and his page Tadashi. They are fosters here at Sunspear alongside yourself." Foster is a kind word to use for the prince's predicament. The smaller mutters a quick 'your grace' before bowing lower than the lords and ladies before him had. It is above his station to meet gazes with one of royal blood, but that does not explain Kei's behavior who is of a noble house. Only when Tadashi sees the prince gritting his teeth and about to snap does he nudge the blonde and wordlessly persuade Kei to bow. He still refuses to look at Tobio, but unlike Tadashi's respect, this is in contempt for the bastard boy. The Prince's apology about a missing captain of the guards flies by Tobio because of his intense focus on Kei. Unlike him who stands unfazed, Tadashi squirms under the prince's glare and Tobio can hear an audible relief when Daichi guides him away. 

Faces blur together; one salty looks like the stoney next to him who has a similar name to the sandy after that. His head spins, and the sea sickness comes rushing back. Tobio sways back a step and is met with the hard breast plate of Kindaichi's armor. A gloved hand grabs the prince's upper arm and forces him upright, forces Tobio to bite back a grimace. He jerks his arm away from the whitecloak and is glad that they and the Dornish lord have proceeded back towards the front of the room so that no one catches sight of his pain. The truth, however, is that his pain is his presence here. 

He was a shame to the royal family in form of the late king's bastard boy. A black stain that was hidden in a little Reach town til the king fetched him at twelve, then pitted him against the trueborn heir in a vie for the throne. But Tobio lost. Written on the will was his name, but here he stands in the court of Dorne. Banished. Alone. He can hear the sound of shredding paper. Burned into his every thought are his brother's hateful eyes as one knight held him and another dragged Tobio away. The council and their lords stood silent around them, and Tobio had not dared to speak, but Tooru — gods, he feels his heart stop at the name — Tooru screamed. 

 

"As part of our welcoming of prince Tobio, we shall feast!" The sudden declaration startles Tobio out of his thoughts and he wakes to the courtiers cheering and clapping. Seemingly, he blinks and they're at the great hall with a half dozen tables covered in plates piled high with food. He wordlessly follows Koushi to the high table as the hundred Dornish guests pour inside after them and clamber to their seats. The guard with the shaved head appears at the high table to pull Koushi aside for a moment to speak. All the chaos of the court settling in to dine and their loud pleasantries disturb him. The Prince seats his wife first who immediately strikes a lively conversation with the younger prince beside her. They lean in close, rest on the arms of their chairs and exchange a tale about which Tobio cannot dare to guess. Yui lays a hand on Chikara's as they laugh. It is intimate, loving. Completely foreign to the banished boy. Seeing Tobio's bitter expression, Koushi interjects. 

"Your Grace, —" He motions towards the seat one away from the Prince's engraved own. He rests his hands on the back of the seat in between them and then asks, "Or if you'd prefer?" Tobio ought to be offended, and in any other setting, it might bother him, but he sits in the original, offered chair. It should be an outrage that a member of the royal family has been placed in anything but the seat of utmost respect, but Tobio figures none of that matters now. The King stripped him of all but his life. Arguing over a seat seems useless now. 

Looking out on the hall as he takes his seat, Tobio hears a flood of chatter. The court of Dorne is alive; it is loud and bustling and sparking with energy unlike anything in the capital. Only on nameday feasts or tourneys could Tobio have found this sort of spirit and even then, being too festive could be embarrassing especially for a family of the Reach. They are to be proper, courteous, and graceful. These Dornishmen on the other hand are impassioned and untamed. When the Prince sits and signals for the feast to begin, all hands are everywhere and the laughter mingles with the minstrel's tune. Daichi leans over with a grin, 

"In Dorne, we're lucky to have only the best wines from my lady wife's home. Would you care for an Arbor gold or will you dare to drink our strongwine?" Tobio hesitates, remembers the kick of wine he drank when first offered hospitality at Sunspear. His palate sours at the thought of the darkness and how easily it could drag Tobio into the cups. 

"The former, _please_." He adds as an afterthought, and then Daichi turns to the serving boy behind him. 

"The gold for his grace." 

Tobio sees two dozen dishes he has never imagined within the first half hour of the feast, and he only tries one. He tears at the loaf of bread between he and Koushi, nibbles on the warm bread because it is easy to stomach and there are no unusual spices either. Everything burns his mouth, every food seems to be covered in flame. The boar is palpable if only because it is a familiar taste, ever present back in the Keep. The cup in his hand never seems to empty despite how much he drinks, and for that, Tobio is grateful. His mind is kept away from the past by the taste of sweet gold and watching the feast unfold. To his other side, the lady Kiyoko sits and eats as delicate as any capitoline woman. She is a silence amongst the chaos of Dorne and does not force any conversation between herself and the prince. He almost relaxes next her in appreciation. 

The feast flies by, and Tobio's plate remains relatively untouched. Kiyoko reaches for a pair of blood oranges and hands one to him with a smile before rising in a grace of black and disappearing into the crowd on the other side of the high table. Great songs had inspired people into dancing, and Tobio's nausea only furthers when he watches the spinning and swirling of fiery colors below. He focuses on peeling the orange and the quieter actions around him.  

Looking up, Tobio sees that while he had been staring at his plate the entire feast, the high court had been much more focused on each other. At some point, Koushi had left his seat and was dragged into Daichi's lap. Daichi has his arms looped around the younger's waist as he slices open a dark plum and feeds the prince every other slice. Koushi whispers something that Tobio cannot quite catch, but it makes a grin break on Daichi's face and laughter follows. The two fit perfectly together, and it creates an unsettling in Tobio as he thinks of another love he once knew. He could have never seen such a thing in public at the capital. He tears his eyes away from the two to notice Ryuu sitting on the table before the second prince. One booted foot rests just next to Chikara's hip as the other swings lazily off the table. Resting a hand on the guard's calf, Chikara smirks as they exchange words. He must say something particularly amusing because Ryuu howls with laughter that sends the two of them into a fit before Chikara manages to compose himself and, with a slap to the knee, composes the other as well. Ryuu glances over at Daichi and Koushi and rolls his eyes and only then does Tobio realize the Princess's absence. Glancing about, he finds the deep Arbor blue swirls with the darkness of Kiyoko's gown as they dance together below, smiles so wide that Tobio thinks the court of Dorne must never not smile. That is, until he hears a laugh that he knows is filled with nothing but spite and turns to confront it. 

"How is the banished prince liking his feast? Here is the whole court of Dorne gathered just for the should-be King." Dull. His gold eyes are dull and speak only distaste, and Tobio instantly knows he is going to hate this Yronwood boy. He thinks bitterly that he is nothing but a second son too. The spare son who doesn't matter nearly as much as the first, but Tobio cannot speak because he is nothing more than the second either. 

"Or, I suppose I should say the won't-be King." On his side, the freckled page snickers, and it makes Tobio slam his goblet down in anger. He wishes lady Kiyoko had been there to divide him and the blonde like before, but now he glares heatedly at the duo who dare mock him. The noise seems to shock the two of them for a moment before their scornful smirks widen. He can't take it. 

Abruptly, he stands and shoves his chair back. The white instantly before him is a sick reminder of the game his life has become, but he rushes away before he can think too much. Behind him, Koushi has instantly noticed Tobio's departure and is ordering servants to follow the prince. 

"What was that about?" Yuutaro demands, and Tobio grits his teeth so hard he can feel his jaw protest painfully. He snaps harshly, 

"By what right can you question me, ser?" The flare of anger seems to silence the knight before it ignites something in him as well. Alone in the corridor now save for the servants that are rushing to near them, Yuutaro snatches Tobio by the arm and drags him close. He forgets how tall Yuutaro is until they are standing so near, and the rage caused by Tobio's words only seems to add to his height. He feels small and loathes everything the other boy stands for. The white he wears is a sham, a lie to cover up the fact that his only duty is not to protect but to make sure Tobio suffers here. He is a spy for the King, and Tobio is sure the true knight he squired for would be ashamed. 

"Let go." He bites out, eyes prickling with angry tears. If the servants had not been around, Tobio knows his words would have had no effect at all. But Yuutaro represents the King and the capital, so he is acutely aware that he is being watched and lets go. The release brings Tobio no sense of ease, only further dread. 

The servants bring him up through the Tower of the Sun to his apartments. The room swims in sea green and sapphire: the King's colors. He observes that his belongings have already been brought from the ship along with the servants sent alongside himself and Yuutaro. The sight of them frustrates Tobio, and he barks for them all to leave. Yuutaro steers them all away and out the door, but as he is turning back, Tobio bolts the door and locks him outside. 

"Tobio!" He yells as he bangs on the door loudly, demanding to get back in. Tobio's hands on the bar tremble, but he refuses to let the whitecloak back in. 

"The Kingsguard stands outside royal chambers, so stand out there." 

"Tobio, open this damn door right now or by the gods, I will —" 

"Will what?" Tobio dares, "Will you go run to your other whitecloaks? They all follow _him_ and he'll never let you harm me." The trembling steadies for a moment at the thought of the only sword who actually upheld his vows. He was righteous courage and loyalty, but he was far away guarding the King. His strength would not save Tobio now. 

"Will you go run to the King? Well, don't bother because he's banished both of us to Dorne. You're as worthless to him as I am." Yuutaro falls silent, who had been jostling the hand and shoving on the door til that last jab. Tobio starts to bring an ear to the door but jolts back when a violent thud sounds, perhaps Yuutaro slammed his fist into the door. It is the last sound for a long while, so Tobio allows himself to relax. Turning to the solitude of his chambers, Tobio lets go of a breathe he'd been holding since the ship docked at the port of Sunspear. 

Carefully, with every move calculated, Tobio searches his belongings, inspects his trappings. The chamber is spacious, almost as large as his room in Maegor's Holdfast. The similarity is striking; the bed is placed in the same position, the curtains by the headboard left hanging while those towards the foot are drawn in. Silks replace heavier wools that fought cold capital winters, but they are otherwise the same. The broad oak chest containing his various garbs sits at the foot and Tobio traces his fingers over the floral designs, passed down from his brother and bearing their family crest. It angers Tobio. 

The room is as close to his chambers in the Keep as possible, and he knows it is deliberate. The King himself must have made it so. It was a joke, it was a jape and jab to remind Tobio he can never escape the King and the memories they held in the capital. The featherbed meets him gently, the only gentleness that Tobio has experienced in so long, and he recalls Koushi's smile. His brother had once smiled so easily, thrown his head back and laughed so hard he had to hold himself. The entire court could not keep their eyes away from Tooru when he sparred against his white knight. The clang of steel was the song they danced to, and the breathless grin that shined on the then-prince's face captivated all. 

Tobio drags a hand slowly down his face and turns on his side only to inhale the scent of the Keep on his sheets. By contrast, the breeze drifting in from the balcony smells of sand and the midday heat. Shifting around, Tobio struggles with his doublet and its buttons and breathes in deep when he manages to free himself. He shucks off his boots next and tosses them near the bed to find later. The chamber is too empty, too lonesome. When he was young, he never slept more than a foot away from the other children. He could stretch out his arm and brush his fingers against another's back. His original chambers in the Keep were small enough to remind him of his home of twelve years, and there was always a servant so he never felt alone. Even the larger chambers he moved to after his fifteenth nameday that, as a child, Tobio could've never imagined living in felt cozy and home-like. With arms encircling him, Tobio always smelled the warmth of rose and citrus on his brother's skin. The smell disgusts him now. 

In Dorne, he feels alone. There are too many new names and not a single person he dares to trust. The last person he trusted now rules alongside the Iron Throne, having sided with Tooru in the small council meeting where the will was read. He did not think anyone could contain Tooru's rage, control it, but the whitecloak had held the new King, held him back from lunging at Tobio when the old Hand declared him heir. Over Tooru's shouts, he commanded someone to take Tobio away. 

 

There is a knocking on his door that causes Tobio to jolt straight up. The room is filled with the colors of twilight and after days of restless, sick nights at sea, the featherbed seemed to have lulled Tobio to sleep. He presses the heel of his hands into his eyes and groans when he rises from the bed. 

"The Prince's whore has called for you, Your Grace." Yutaro's voice is dry and irritated through the door, and Tobio hesitates for a moment before unbolting the door and opening to find the knight standing there. His hair that normally juts up straight looks like he's been combing a hand through it repeatedly. His eyes are dark, but perhaps it is only the bags Tobio can see forming under his eyes. 

"His name is Koushi." He says duly as he turns to gather his doublet and throw it over his shoulders. He rests on the edge of the bed as he yanks on his left boot. Yuutaro snorts at this response and comes closer. 

" _He_ is a freak, and that makes two of you." The instant the prince's head shoots up to retort, two hands grab his shoulders and shove him down onto the bed. His breath leaves him completely. Yuutaro's weight bears down on his shoulders, and Tobio is immobilized. The taller of the two is stronger as well, and he presses his knee between Tobio's thighs. Their noses almost brush, but all he can think of is the painful panic swelling in his chest. In a moment, they are on the boat again, and this time, he cannot force himself away from the knight's bruising grip and threatening words in time. He is in Tooru's chambers in the Keep, begging him not to send him away, pleading that he will do _anything_. He can't breathe. 

"You're probably just as sick as him, _Your Grace_. Demented mind, dirtied blood … We already know you're a madman, being a whore isn't a far shot from there." Tobio would have trembled, but he simply stares. Frozen, full of fear. After managing to evade him for the voyage at sea, the pent-up anger boiling under the surface of Yuutaro's skin rolls off his skin and drowns Tobio. He is no stranger to another's wrath, he's no stranger to rage. Dirty, demented. Bare skin against silk sheets, begging for mercy but only left broken-hearted by the one he once dared to love. He remembers grabbing the sheets to muffle his cries. The taste of roses and tears. 

Yuutaro presses closer and forces Tobio to bite down on his lip to fight a sob. He tries to remember the boy Yuutaro once was, tries to remember these are not Yuutaro's true words. 

"You're just an abomination cast away by the gods." Even with one hand, Yuutaro restrains the thin-framed prince and, with a slow grin blooming, moves his hand down to stroke the front of Tobio's pants. He arches — gods, he curses his body, but he arches into Yuutaro's hand and the other's grin grows. Burning, Tobio can feel his stomach coil in shame and disgust. 

"Your Grace?" An approaching voice calling from the hall outside his door forces Yuutaro to jerk his head back to look. For the first time since his back met the mattress, Tobio breathes and takes the sudden surge of air and shoves Yuutaro away as hard as he can manage. The two stand right away and face opposite ways. Tobio struggles with his boots to distract himself from the heat in his veins. 

"Lord Sugawara has asked me to show you to him." A duo of grey robes with purple draping appears in the door, but Tobio does not glance back til he is sure there is no evidence of what just occurred. He squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to remember how to breathe. 

"Of course." He fumbles with the clasps of his doublet as he hurriedly follows them out, heartbeat only fading in his ears to let Tobio hear the sound of armor moving which meant Yuutaro was just behind him. The servants ask him something and he doesn't respond. They wind their way to the bottom of the tower where after another corridor, the marble opened into a colonnade with green spilling everywhere. Sunset sets everything in red. Having kept his head down while descending the stairs, the prince finally bothers to raise his eyes and meets the slowly familiar sight of the blonde and his page boy. 

The page chatters on excitedly, and nearing them now, Tobio realizes how tall the lordling is. He hazards a guess that he is the same height as the whitecloak flanking him. He becomes so engrossed with watching the couple he met before that he does not see the third boy with them until he laughs, loud and clear like daybreak. His hair, his hair. It burns like licking flames, and Tobio knows him. The trio comes to halt a few steps away from the prince and after a whisper from the page, the blonde smiles to greet Tobio. 

"Good evening, Your Grace." Tobio cannot move his eyes from where they are fixed on the red-head's face. He turns to meet Tobio's gaze, and the recognition that instantly shows in his eyes makes a rage erupt inside Tobio. He lunges, 

"Tadashi —!" The blonde shouts and thrusts an arm out to block Tobio from attacking his page Tadashi. Tobio's hands are instantly around the red's throat, and it feels like claws come up to fight him. Footsteps sound loudly, and the two from Yronwood are clambering to avoid Tobio as he tackles the other to the ground. His blood is still hot from Yuutaro's touch, and his anger and embarrassment only rises when he sees this boy, this wild child from years past. 

"Stop! _Stop_!" Tadashi yells, but the prince's fury is too much. The whispers of court surround him; the crazy bastard boy, the prince who did not sleep for a year. They said he dreamt up this fire-kissed friend of his, and the King never dared to say different. Here, under his fingers, the wilding boy screams his name and fights to wrestle Tobio's hands away from his neck. His shouts soften into broken wails as Tobio presses tight and hard around his neck. The wildling's fists beat against Tobio's arms and, weakly, he claws at Tobio's face until suddenly Tobio is being dragged away. Out of his mind, they said at the council meeting, he is not fit to rule. Yuutaro's hands around him are firm and unforgiving, tight on his waist as Tobio struggles and thrashes in his grip. He swears to kill the boy. He thinks he swears this only in his mind, but the page's horrified expression proves otherwise. His lordling's arm protectively wrapped around his shoulders does nothing to protect him from the hateful words that Tobio lets fly. 

He is mad, he is mad. Tobio knows they are whispering such things, and then he thinks — by gods, they are wrong. For the first time in his life, Tobio knows they are wrong about his supposed insanity. They said he made him up, they said it was all in his head, but it was true. There the snow boy stands, flesh and blood like Tobio insisted he was. Tooru had used the rumors to help validate his banishment, but it was all just rumor, it was all just lies. He is okay, Tobio thinks, he is not mad. The realization brings forth such a bubbling sensation of pure joy that Tobio chokes on his laughter. The colonnade is filled with the echoes of his glee even as Yuutaro drags him away to nowhere, and the Dornish must truly think he is mad now.


	2. the Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two, huhuhuuh. !!! this chapter introduces an original character named satomi. !!! she is daichi's two year old bastard daughter, and hopefully since she's not this .. offensive, otp-interferring-oc, y'all won't hate her?? plus, she doesn't take up a lot of screen time. the topic of inheritance is very important to this au, (the entire plot is about kageyama, the second son, inheriting the throne instead of oikawa, the first?) so for dorne, there's the issue of daichi's heir and that's why an oc was created. 
> 
> pairs: dai/suga/yui, enno/tana. hint of dai/enn.  
> tw: smut in intro scene, brief mention of abuse.

"Daichi, my sun..." Koushi exhales quietly in the dim morning light, beckoning the Prince to join him. Daichi had been sitting at his desk rustling through papers before preparing for court that morn when Koushi came into their chambers to discuss something or another. From the bed came Yui's soft, sleep-addled voice greeting him. She pushed the straps of her nightgown back onto her shoulders as she rose to sway over to where Koushi stood helping look at documents with Daichi. Daichi recalls the sweet sound Koushi made as Yui's arms circled his waist and one delicate hand snaked its way into Koushi's pants. 

 

"You are always so beautiful in the morning, our beloved Dawn." She murmured, and Daichi watched Koushi shift and squirm under Yui's hand. He knew her touch well and knew the pretty red blush spreading over their paramour's cheeks. She stood on her toes to kiss the back of his neck with a smile. His hand trailed on the papers before him, but before another moment passed, his wife already had their dear Koushi on his back on the bed, half-undressed, and was coming to settle between his thighs. Now, he sits and watches as Yui mouths eagerly at Koushi, licking him and humming in amusement as Koushi grabs needily at her hair. She must push her tongue deeper, for the following cry is one of pure ecstasy. Daichi palms himself idly as Koushi begins to beg Yui for more, begs for Daichi to join them.  

 

"I thought you wanted to discuss the princeling." Daichi says, laughing a bit. Yui sits up in one smooth motion and glances back at Daichi over her shoulder. Koushi sobs Yui's name weakly, and Daichi sees her suddenly push two fingers inside of him. The silver-blond scrunches the bed sheets under his hands and rocks up against Yui's skillful touch. She chides her husband gently, 

 

"Please, dear, this is not exactly the best time." Her second hand moves from Koushi's waist to his pale thigh where she strokes his skin with teasing fingers, enjoying the way his leg twitches instinctively. Daichi knows they will speak of the prince later, but for now, Daichi tries half-heartedly to find one particular document as he hears Koushi's not-so quiet noises of pleasure across the room. Truly, he wishes to join them, but he knows it will only make them both late for court in the end. Beyond that, he begrudgingly admits to himself that Yui is far better with her hands and mouth than Daichi is. 

 

Yui coaxes Koushi to completion with a few more thrusts of her fingers and a few adoring words. Daichi bites his lip when he hears the blond's telltale whine-like moan, and he thinks to himself that he may need to nag at Yui later for distracting them both just before court, despite the delightful result for their lover. After finally finding the paper he wanted, Daichi rises to fetch a glass of citrus water for the lordling who now lay regaining his breath. 

 

He hands the glass to Koushi who props himself up only to drink a huge swig. A bit sweaty, Koushi smiles, 

 

"Then... about the princeling— do I have permission to do as I wish?" He hands Yui the glass to finish, and she echoes the sharp-eyed smile. Koushi's gaze is ever gentle, but determined. Daichi knows the boy is in good hands with Koushi. He remembers Ryuu saying that Koushi wanted to bring him to court, to see the proceedings that a lord must attend to. It is definitely not the worst option of how to deal with him, Daichi muses. 

 

"When have I ever said no to you, Koushi?" He says, tossing him his discarded breeches. Yui hums in a joking way. 

 

"His last nameday, when he asked for a griffin." 

 

"Oh, that was a terrible disappointment, wasn't it?" Koushi sighs. The dry look Daichi gives them over his shoulder as he gathers his papers is enough to send them both into a bout of laughter. The morning brightens with their smiles, and Daichi hopes for the best from this day.  

 

 

 

Koushi has brought another seat to the dais by the time Daichi arrives at the throne room to hold court. Beside him, Tobio waits in silence. Daichi watches him fidget with the cuffs of his shirt, still wearing the heavier capital clothes that stand out against the fashions of Sunspear. Daichi's guards wait below the dais as he ascends. He greets Tobio with a handshake, having been warned of the boy's tendency to flinch away from intimate contact. At their first dinner together, Koushi had tried to greet him in the Dornish custom of kissing once the left cheek, but Tobio pulled away with a repulsed expression. The boy had been raised in the Reach and then brought to a court ruled by men of Highgarden, so they all assumed Tobio would kiss twice in greeting, but he shudders away from all contact. To Koushi, Daichi kisses his lips briefly as a greeting of love and tastes tansy on his lips when he pulls away. 

 

As they seat themselves, Daichi notices that the whitecloak is nowhere to be seen. Ryuu stands for both Koushi and Tobio alongside the two substitutes of Daichi's patrol, and he cannot hazard a guess at where the Kingsguard would be. Shifting his crown back on his brow, he begins that morning's court. 

 

He hears the requests of a lady from Salt Shore, hears the motions for a divorce between a minor noble of the Gardens and his wife. Two merchants from separate towns ask for funds to maintain a road between towns for commerce purposes. A rather rich man offers his young daughter as a bride for the second prince, and Daichi sends him away without much thought. The man protests being dismissed, says that the prince is of marrying age, but Daichi refuses to wed his brother for politics as he himself was. It is court as usual; Daichi sits, he listens, then gives his reply. It is the same as every day; hear the people's plea, respond as a Prince should. Account for their needs, but think of the greater good. Consider budgets, but do not refuse outright costly things. For six years, he has sat upon the sun throne, and for years more, he will do the same. 

 

The lord of the Tor comes to beg for an extension of his loans, and Daichi remembers receiving word of his wife’s death only two days past. He stands and descends the dais to pull the lord aside and speak in soft tones. He speaks first of his condolences for his lady wife and tries not to cast his gaze away when the lord mutters that the gods must not wish for his happiness. First his son, now his lady wife. Daichi implores him to remember his daughter of fourteen years who Daichi recalls being the spitting image of her brother at that age. Light brown hair, freckled face. Seven years had passed, but the Prince couldn’t forget the strange color that overtook his friend, desperate hands grasping at his throat as the poison dragged him into the Stranger’s realm. His own lady mother’s panicked expression as she pulled him and his little fiancee away from the scene and into her protective embrace. 

 

When he grants his request, the lord of the Tor drops to one knee and kisses Daichi’s hand clasped in his own. 

 

"Gods bless you, my Prince. You make your mother proud." He gently brings the lord to his feet and gives his hand a squeeze. 

 

"Thank you, my lord, and may the gods keep you and your daughter safe."  

 

"And you."  

 

He watches Tobio’s expression as he reseats himself on the throne. Koushi is leaned towards him, head turned and words soft and quick, undoubtedly explaining the exchange just now. The curiosity that Daichi finds in the prince’s eyes makes him glad to have him at court. His interest is necessary to his growth, and Daichi knows he’ll be having Tobio sit at court with them for the foreseeable future. Court drags on for an hour more or so as it does everyday, and Daichi catches snippets of Koushi’s conversation with their new ward.  

 

He hears mention of his wife and the reason she is absent from court. Although Princess alongside Daichi, she rarely sits in on morning's proceedings, not for lack of interest but for priority in her household chores. Daichi sits and listens to politics and reports on how business was doing in their kingdom, while Yui visits the people themselves to see their conditions and lives outside the Tower of Sun. Her heart lays with the people, their people. Daichi could have had a wife who cared nothing for the kingdom and simply sat around the castle all day, but he has a wife who loves ten times what is ever expected of her. She does her duties as lady of Sunspear such as overseeing the kitchens or helping balance the books, but more than that, Yui helps, she loves. She often sits in on the lessons with the septa and maester with the young children of court. She dances easily with the ladies of court and teaches them graces and strength. She and her ladies go twice a week past the lower gates of Sunspear to the poorer parts of the city to do kind acts of charity. She prays with the common folk in their smaller, cramped septs, and they pray in return for their Princess. 

 

The Arbor had sent her to Dorne as a political and economical play, but instead of rejecting the foreign girl, the people flocked so easily to their new lady. Daichi's mother had blessed their engagement, and the people agreed. For years, the two kingdoms had struggled against each other, and the marriage of Michimiya to Sawamura was a way to settle that. Dorne's business with the Reach had only gotten more complicated since then, however, with the arrival of the banished prince. 

 

When he calls court to an end for the day, Koushi invites Tobio to join him and Daichi at their midday meal. Koushi has been trying and trying to get the prince more acclimated to Dorne, and Daichi has given him free liberty to try whatever he thinks best. Tobio looks at Daichi briefly before nodding to his paramour and accepting the offer. Koushi beams, but then Daichi recalls something. 

 

"I won't be able to, I have that meeting with Yui's uncle and the others." Koushi's expression falls slightly, and the princeling seems to shrink away at the rejection. Koushi frowns a bit but salvages the opportunity, 

 

"You still plan on coming to training, right?" 

 

"Of course." He says apologetically, and Koushi's smile returns. He brushes his lips against Daichi's cheek and turns to leave. He ushers Tobio away and begins to chatter about lunch and other things. He hears Tobio accept the possibility of watching the guards' training as they leave. 

 

Daichi sighs quietly as he watches the courtroom empty and the envoys from the Reach come forth to discuss the peace between them. 

 

 

  

Afternoon training is well underway by the time Daichi has finished the meeting with Yui's uncle from the Arbor and a few men from Oldtown. The Reach had sizably increased commerce to Dorne after the Prince agreed to foster Tobio. It was a rushed agreement, made in minutes when the Hand of the King managed to find Daichi before his departure from the capital. After the reading of the will and the ensuing chaos, every lord and lady seemed to flee the capital for fear of the crowned King's rage. Daichi and his party of Dornishmen only stayed as long as they dared, but King Tooru's anger was too easily turned on them for supporting Tobio's claim to the throne. Yui had begged that they return to Sunspear, and even Koushi felt uneasy staying for a day more. 

 

The Reach had been Dorne's friend for a few years after he and Yui wed, but the Hand promised the capital's favor as well if Daichi would protect Tobio. He remembers the word "protect" so vividly; the look on the Hand's face was of panic for the boy, not for the king. He remembers how the Hand had used his past with Yui to gain her support, and had convinced Koushi by playing on his bleeding heart. The tale of the princeling's failed flight had spread quickly amongst the courtiers. He and Koushi had caught sight of the whitecloaks dragging him back, tears staining his cheeks as he thrashed against the guards' grip. The memory chilled him to the bone. Daichi was a Prince, however, and he couldn't let the past nor his emotions rule all decisions he made. The whitecloak knew that Daichi supported Tobio's claim. His name had been written there for all to see, and that was enough for Daichi to cast his vote, so the Hand argued from that perspective. You support him, he said, he will be safe with you. Protected, safe. That was his duty now, to assure the banished prince was protected and safe.  

 

When he arrives at the yard, there is already a match taking place. Flaming red hair darts around the courtyard to the song of swords. He doesn't register who is the other contender until the bastard boy moves, and then Daichi catches sight of Tadashi. Smiling to himself, he comes to stand beside his brother at the edge of the yard.  

 

"Ukai paired them together for today, he wanted to know more about Shoyo's water dancing." His eyes follow the match. Tadashi is on the defensive, barely keeping Shoyo at bay. The northern boy is more agile, more powerful, more enthusiastic. He draws the attention of everyone around them. 

 

"That explains the thin blade he's got." He hums, and Chikara nods. The Master at Arms only discovered Shoyo's talent when he mentioned having lived in Bravos years ago. Ukai had instantly become more intrigued with the boy who otherwise had a great difficulty in the yard. He seemed to hate heavier equipment, and his archery skills were terrible. His ability to defend was a topic Ukai had not even dared to broach. Here, now, with a thin blade and light clothes, Shoyo truly dances across the yard. 

 

Tadashi stands no chance. 

 

The page is knocked off his feet soon enough, and the other boy stands proudly above him. He offers a hand to help him up, and Tadashi accepts it with a sheepish grin. Tadashi is not new to the court, but his formal training in swordsmanship only began a few months prior. He had never had the chance to study such arts at Yronwood, and despite his defeat just now, Daichi notes the steady improvement from the quivering boy he recalls. 

 

A round of applause echoes briefly for Shoyo's victory. Glancing around, Daichi finds his lover standing with the dark-haired prince on the outskirts of the yard. Tobio is unmoving, perhaps unwilling to clap for the northern boy he so despised, but perhaps — if Daichi can trust the gleam in his eyes — he was too fascinated to move. There were no Bravoosi at the late king's court, only typical knights with hard, heavy armor and gleaming steel swords. In Dorne, many preferred the spear to the sword, and talents like Shoyo were excellent examples of warriors unlike the tales of old. It had been a week since the incident between he and Tobio. A week since the prince had locked himself away in his chambers and refused to come out. 

 

He will be safe with you. 

 

The words echo in his head as he watches Koushi smile at the younger boy. He seemed tired at court that morning, off balance somehow. Despite the lively Dornish atmosphere, Tobio had slumped shoulders and a sullen look. Koushi managed to get the boy vaguely interested in the proceedings but he did not look the slightest bit happy until now. Tobio is led a few steps away further into the shade by a gentle hand on his arm, and it eases Daichi to see him not shrink away from the other's touch. He wonders where the whitecloak that had tailed so close the first day is now. The knight, Yutaro if he recalls, is supposed to be keeping Tobio safe, at least that is what the cloak entails. The thought stays with him, a quiet nagging. 

 

"Prince Daichi—!" He turns to see Ryuu striding confidently across the yard, having shucked off his shirt as usual. The sandy warrior grins and shouts, 

 

"Spar with me, my Prince!" The yard turns their attention to Daichi who stands unprepared in courtly robes with ink on his hands. He tries not to roll his eyes, but Ryuu sees and pushes further, turning to the other guards and combatants to ask, 

 

"What's this? Is the Prince too good to grace the training grounds with his presence? Or is he scared to face me?" Shoyo stands wide-eyed and horrified that Ryuu would dare ask such a thing, but, amusingly, he catches a glimmer, a glance of fascination and adoration in the boy's eyes. Daichi hears his brother snort to his left. Chikara has to cover his mouth not to laugh too loudly at the bold demand. 

 

"Don't let this simpleton provoke you, brother. His sandy blood boils here in the sun." At this, Ryuu cannot help but interject. 

 

"Would you rather step into the yard, dear Chikara?" The term slips out by accident; what is normally a fond address is a challenge, and Daichi steps between his brother and the guard. Since his coming home, Daichi has never forced a sword into Chikara's hand. He trains at his own pace, at his pleasing, and the moment Ryuu sees Daichi step forth, he knows his challenge went too far. 

 

"Very well, then. I accept, but know that you've tried my patience, Ryuu. I won't hold back." A cheering erupts in the yard; the Prince sparring is a delight, they know. Daichi is often too busy with laws and whatnot to join the guards and knights in their training. A servant is at his side when he sheds his elegant coat and heavy belt. Left only in a light tunic with breeches and boots, he stretches his arms out and feels the sun from above. He enjoys sparring; he revels in the action, the movement, and how powerful it feels to wield a blade as well as he does. 

 

Stepping out into the yard, he can see Ryuu's dark skin sheening with sweat. Training started an hour ago, and he is known to be enthusiastic. Daichi assumes he sparred with Shoyo before anyone else. He would have wanted to see the boy's skill up close, and judging from the match against Tadashi, Shoyo put up a good fight. Ideally, he tired Ryuu out a bit. Daichi was experienced, but Ryuu was energetic. He overwhelms in the beginning, but tires in time. 

 

The Prince takes the dull blade from his servant and hopes he can outlast. 

 

His fighting is quick, relentless, and keeps Daichi on the defensive from the beginning. Ryuu swings, and Daichi blocks. Moments turn to minutes and with each blow, Daichi gains the upper hand. 

 

He remembers when Ryuu first came to Sunspear almost three years ago. A thief turned honest man if only by Koushi's grace. His fighting had been so immature back then, a rough style of the streets meant only to break in and break out. His mentor had been no better; brutal and heavy-handed with only years of wandering the mountains and plains of Dorne to train him. They made an odd duo of captain and lieutenant, but Ryuu had had to take up responsibility as acting captain since the former's disappearance. 

 

A sudden stab forces Daichi to dodge sideways, and he loses his concentration because of the stumble. His sword stabs into the ground, and he leans all of his weight on it, putting himself in an unbalanced, vulnerable state. Ryuu attacks instantly without a second to breathe, but Daichi kicks out his legs from underneath him. He almost goes face first into the matted sand, but breaks his fall with his arms. The onlookers shout in wild excitement. Ryuu's not easily knocked down, not like the snarling sixteen year old who came from Starfall who boldly challenged Chikara and was dismantled in mere seconds. No, Ryuu is worthy of being his lieutenant, but that did not mean Daichi would let himself be defeated just yet. 

 

"Are you just going to accept defeat like that, idiot?" 

 

"Get up, Ryuunosuke, you have to get up! Fight!" Chikara decides to join Koushi's cheers, or jeers would be a better fit. Hisashi nudges the second Prince and shouts with a grin, 

 

"C'mon, you sandy dolt! Can't you do any better?" Glancing back at Ryuu, Daichi sees that the teasing has riled the guard onto his feet and, of course, has pissed him off. He grips his sword and angrily waves it in the direction of Koushi and the other two. They have so many years shared between them that Daichi doubts his anger is real. He swears anyways, 

 

"Damnit, I can't focus with your mockery!" 

 

"We're cheering _for_ you, not making fun of." Koushi grins wide and honest, and a smile blooms on Chikara's face as well. 

 

"Well, we are making a _little_ fun of him." Chikara says with a wink. Daichi cannot help but sigh as Ryuu is instantly renewed with energy. This makes matters more difficult, he notes. 

 

Daichi takes the offensive before Ryuu can get the upper hand again. He is starting to feel the wear of the match on his muscles and knows Ryuu must be feeling worse, having fought at least once before this. Ryuu's defense is a disgrace. He forgets to guard, forgets to pay attention to anything besides attacking, and Daichi plays on that advantage. He had been caught so easily years ago, his band of raiders no more than teens too ambitious for their own good, hoping to live up to his sister's legacy. Koushi had found Ryuu on his knees held by two guards awaiting orders to execute the young criminal. Mercy, however, saved Ryuu that day. There is no mercy here. 

 

The Prince slashes and slices as quick as he can. Ryuu panics in his defense, but within a moment, he's on his ass in the sand, sword meters away. Daichi grins down at him, 

 

"What was that about me being scared to face you?" Ryuu's defeated scowl is enough satisfaction for him, and Daichi offers a hand up. The yard bursts with applause for their Prince's victory, and Daichi bows in gracious acceptance. He is breathless and happy to be so. As they walk back to the shade where rest awaits, Daichi hears a joyous cry. 

 

"Papa!" Beside Koushi now stands his lady wife and in her arms is the light of his life, his daughter. 

 

"Satomi, my joy." He exhales, and goes to her. 

 

"She wanted to see her father defeat silly Ryuu, didn't she?" Yui coos. Satomi grins in delight and lets go of one arm around Yui's neck to wave at Daichi. 

 

"You were like the Warrior, papa!" She reaches for a hug, and Daichi answers with a couple smothering kisses on her cheek, ruffling her thick black curls with both hands. He is a Prince and a father both, and the court knows how he adores his daughter. She has her mother's gold eyes, but not the pale silver hair or stony Dornish look. Satomi takes after Daichi with olive skin and a fiery disposition that drives her septa insane. Today, her outspokenness means shrieking in disgust at how sweaty and "icky" her father is after sparring. She swats him away and hides behind Yui's scarf 

 

"Love, please —" Koushi laughs as he hands Daichi a cloth to dry his face and neck. He coaxes Satomi gently into untangling herself from hiding, but she still clings to Yui's blue scarf. Daichi wipes at his face to get rid of some sweat and glances sideways to see Ryuu wiping sand off himself as he walks to the shade. Chikara steps forward to meet him and, laughing, presses a towel to his chest. They exchange a few words while the guard cleans off sand and sweat. Daichi catches the teasing phrase "absolutely repulsive" before Ryuu hits Chikara with the dirtied cloth. Chikara's smile does not fade a bit as he shouts in disgust. 

 

"Did court go well this morning?" Yui shifts how she was holding Satomi on her hip and sways closer to Koushi when the toddler reaches towards him to tug at the elegant purple designs on his sleeve. 

 

"It went fine as usual," He says, but then quiets slightly. "Hayato's father was in court to ask about his loans." 

 

"Is his daughter still well?" When Daichi answers yes, he sees the tension in Yui's face fade away, but the smile she wears is reminiscent of a painful time for her. Daichi and Yui both dreamt for months of their friend's death, yet Daichi had had his home to comfort him. Despite being returned to her family, Yui had been alone. She had spent two years away from the Arbor and had adopted Dornish mannerisms, a far more southern view than what was deemed acceptable for a thirteen year old girl. She had been an equal to the boys of the Dornish court, but then treated as less when she went home to her family. Her return to Sunspear for their marriage at seventeen was one of the happiest days, she always says. 

 

"And the princeling?" She asks as Tobio catches their eyes a few yards away. He had left Koushi's side and begun to walk the colonnade watching the chaos of Ryuu chasing Chikara. The boy knight Yutaro arrives, and Tobio's wistful look disappears within an instant. 

 

"He seems to have some interest in court, at least for the sake of learning a lord's duties." Koushi replies, but does not look away from the capitoline duo. Yutaro's anger is evident in the way he looms over Tobio, but the younger refuses to raise his voice in the presence of the Dornish. An unease settles in Daichi's stomach, a gnawing feeling that undoubtedly has grabbed hold of Koushi's conscience as well. It is not your place, he tells himself however. 

 

The clattering of swords on the ground snaps Daichi's attention to Ryuu tripping over Hisashi and the rack of weapons next to them. His brother's laugh sounds through the yard and the ripple of laughter that follows swallows anything Daichi could have heard from Tobio's conversation. In the distraction, Chikara ducks behind a column to hide. Ryuu follows and there is a moment of inaction before Chikara bolts away, flushed and grabbing at Hisashi's hand as they flee the yard. Daichi only catches sight of Tobio's retreating form, shoulders tense as Yutaro walks close behind. 

 

Shoyo watches as well. 

 

 

  

As the days pass, Tobio's time at court becomes easier and easier. Daichi sees him lean towards Koushi to whisper a question ever so often, and once he offers a solution quietly to the advisor for a Salt Shore man's issue. Unlike the first day, Tobio is joined everyday by Yutaro standing below the dais. Once, a Dornish guard tried to chat with him but was met with rude silence. 

 

Neither the princeling nor his knight has made friends in Dorne, Daichi notices. The Yronwood duo refuses to speak with Tobio after the incident with Shoyo, who himself steers clear of Tobio. Perplexed by this, Daichi recalls that Tadashi had made friends with Shoyo shortly after he joined the page in the training yard. Kei himself never spars, but has been slowly warming to Shoyo's presence here. In Yutaro's case, after he spurned the first guard and after a rough introduction to Ryuu, everyone had given up any attempts at befriending the Kingsguard. They all saw that his only interest lay in watching Tobio and sending frequent ravens to the capital, presumably to the King himself, but perhaps to the Hand instead. Only Koushi had managed to get even slightly close to Tobio as only he had the patience to tolerate Yutaro. 

 

"Should I have Tobio train with Shoyo and the other guards?" Daichi wonders aloud one night as he lays back on his bed. The princeling had been under his care for almost three weeks now, and the only time he was seen even slightly at ease was during court, seated safely next to the Prince himself and his advisor. He never visited the yard again, only glanced at the training as he walked by with his white armored shadow. He broke his fast in his own chambers and took his lunch there as well, only supping outside when invited by Koushi who had taken to asking him daily to dine together. Tonight, their dinner had carried on longer than usual, keeping Koushi from their bed. 

 

"I have heard he trained alongside the Kingsguard and other knights of the capital. Training with Ukai and our guards ought to be interesting with their different techniques, especially considering the northern boy's odd style." Yui nudges Daichi gently with her bare foot. He turns to look at her with a frown that causes her to set down her needlework. 

 

"Would their past cause issues as it did the day of his arrival? And without a proper captain, I don't know if we can train Shoyo. Ukai was only a smith two years past, and Ryuu's not prepared to lead them —" Before he can continue, Yui kisses him, close-mouthed and insistent. When she pulls away, her eyes demand silence. Here in their chambers, he worries openly. Here, he is without his crown, simply a man preoccupied by thought. Daichi sinks back into the sheets with a sigh as Yui lies close beside him. 

 

"You worry too much, husband. Things will be alright." She says with a gentle smile on her lips that is more of an assurance than the words themselves. It was soon to be four months without their captain of the guard. Each day, the trouble of his absence weighs heavier on Daichi's mind. They would go half years without seeing each other as youths, but this is different. Everything is different now, it seems. Daichi no longer feels as secure as he once was. His confidence as crown Prince wanes with each problem that rises in his kingdom. 

 

"And what of ser Yutaro?" Yui asks quietly. Daichi sets his jaw, feeling that gnawing, anxious feeling rise up in his gut again. He thinks of the way the whitecloak had treated the other guards so discourteously, how Koushi said he never left Tobio alone for save for when he sent letters to the capital. 

 

"Absolutely not. There will be no place in Sunspear for such people." The gnawing feeling quickly morphs into a nauseous, ill twist in his chest at the memory of his brother's pain. He had no evidence of the whitecloak's cruelty, but Daichi would let no man who raised a hand to another be welcomed in his court. 

 

Yui must feel the weight of his silence because her warm hand covers his, 

 

"Everything will be alright, it always is in the end." She squeezes his hand, trying to distract her husband with a different subject instead of memories of ill happenings. "I returned, didn't I? Chikara came back as well. … They'll come home one day. You'll see." Daichi stares adoringly at his wife and leans to kiss her gently. The fears don't fade entirely, but for now, he is calmed. He whispers a thanks against her lips, and she takes the moment to ask, 

 

"Will you visit my bed tomorrow night? I will be between moons." 

 

"Of course, my dear. Though —" Smirking, Daichi tugs her suddenly on top of him, "I don't see why we cannot try tonight." She giggles into another kiss. It is light and loving, and Daichi tries to enjoy how her hands move over his torso teasingly. The month past, they had been in the capital, and with all the chaos, producing an heir was not on their minds. Yui moves against him, eager and willing to couple and try getting pregnant. Each morning, she prays to the Mother to bless her with a child of her own, but the Mother had given Daichi's child to another. Yui, blessed Yui, Daichi thinks as he looks up at her lovely face, cursed as childless thus far. She loves Daichi's daughter as her own, loves her fiercely, and loves her despite being natural born. Yui prayed, but Satomi is Koushi's daughter not her own. 

 

 

  

He calls Ukai to his solar the next day after court. There, he waits with Koushi to discuss the princeling. Their Master at Arms reeks of smoke and tobacco when he enters. The three sit together and speak over a glass of watered strongwine. 

 

"He won't get along with Shoyo." Ukai says immediately after Daichi explains his idea of Tobio training with the guards. He scowls when the Prince looks irritated, obviously frustrated himself by the thought of handling the surly teen. Daichi begins again, 

 

"Shoyo is training, Tadashi is training. Kei is always there, so having Tobio as well would help them all to get along." Before Daichi can continue, Koushi covers his hand with his own and speaks gentler than either of the fiery-opinioned men around him. 

 

"They are all of the same age, it would be beneficial for them to be friends." 

 

"I am not training my men to be _friends_." Ukai interjects, and Daichi snaps back at him. Koushi is startled when Daichi leans forward and speaks with a dangerous tone. 

 

"Then train them to be warriors. You will train them nevertheless." The scowl doesn't fade from the blonde's expression, but he sits up a bit straighter when the Prince raises his voice as a threat. He knows of Daichi's temper, but more so, he knows of the past between Daichi and his own grandfather, the former Master at Arms. Ukai has only held this position for a year, versus the forty that his grandfather had. Barely anyone outside the high court knows the truth of Ikkei Ukai's exile, but Keishin only needs to know the consequences of crossing Daichi for the message to get across. 

 

"Discipline them as you would anyone if they do not get along. If another fight occurs, stop them. They will get along, even if they aren't friends. Am I clear?" 

 

After a long moment, Ukai sits back in his chair and bends to his Prince's will. 

 

"Yes, my lord." He mutters despite his disagreeance. "And the whitecloak?" 

 

"No. Not him." 

 

"Yes, my lord." Daichi breathes a silent sigh of relief and feels Koushi squeeze his hand gently in assurance. The Yronwood duo has begun to accept Shoyo, and Daichi is sure they'll eventually accept Tobio as well. 

 

 

 

"Brother?" Daichi turns from his papers as he hears Chikara's voice softly float through the room. Koushi lifts his head from the letter he was writing to Kingsgrave. "May I speak with you for a moment?" His glance towards the other lord indicates that he wishes for their conversation to be private, and Daichi stands to follow Chikara out into the hallway where they can talk in peace. Chikara fidgets as he checks to see they are alone, and Daichi takes his cold hands with his own warm, reassuring hands. 

 

"Chikara, what is it?" Daichi asks, and Chikara takes a single hand away to pull a letter from the pocket of his robe. He hands it to his brother, 

 

"I received this … odd letter from the prince of Pentos a few days ago. I wasn't sure what to do about it." 

 

He opens the letter, scanning the Valyrian written there for any notable words. 

 

"He says that ... well, he knows Tobio will be happy in Dorne, with us two suns. He writes that they had hoped to see him flourish there in Pentos, but that he understands the King's decision to keep his brother in the west." Daichi catches the banished boy's name, sees the words _darys_ for king and _Vesteros_. 

 

"He asks that we give Tobio his respects, to tell him that the King … cared about him enough to prepare everything in Pentos for his life there." Chikara trails off in a tangent about the Pentoshi prince's use of  _jorrāelagon_ to denote the King's feelings versus the typical  _raqagon_ _._ "I translated his words into the Common Tongue as care for, but it is more ... "love," and even then it is not so simple." 

 

"How so?" Daichi recalls the way the King looked at Tobio during the coronation. He saw no care in the King's eyes. It would be impossible to say they were brothers from the lack of love seen between them. 

 

"It's just a bit odd, I suppose. One does not use _jorr_ _āelogon_ lightly or easily. It is not just to love, but ... to be dearest, to need the other." 

 

Daichi thumbs the back of Chikara's hand and easily says, 

 

"Like us." 

 

Chikara looks up from the letter and smiles so faintly, squeezing Daichi's hand. 

 

"Something like that." He says. Daichi pulls him into a one-armed embrace, gripping the letter tightly. He will be safe with you, the Hand had said. Daichi wonders with an ill feeling if the Hand and King knew of each other's plans. Could they be at odds because of this decision? In his heart of hearts, Daichi could never fathom being at such odds with his own brother. He kisses Chikara's temple and murmurs a quiet thanks for having brought the letter to him. He asks Chikara if he would mind talking to Tobio personally about the letter, about Pentos, 

 

"If it doesn't pain you, Chika." To this, Chikara lightly hits Daichi on the chest, chiding him after agreeing to talk to the banished boy. 

 

"You make it seem like I regret coming home." Daichi ducks his head a bit, knowing that he sometimes says these things. "Dai. —" He lifts Daichi's head with two fingers, smiling. "I will never regret that I came home." Curling his hand around the back of Chikara's neck, Daichi kisses him. Brief and chaste, but firm. It is a familiar feeling, and Chikara's hand feels warm now. 

 

"I will talk to Tobio." 

 

 

 

He finds the red-headed newcomer the next evening as the sun was dipping low in the sky. Ryuu sits with him as they split an orange and chat. Daichi approaches just as they fall over laughing about something or another, and a smile crosses his face at the sight.

 

"Shoyo, may I speak with you?" He says, and the two suddenly jolt straight up and clamber to their feet. The wildling boy looks half-terrified, half-awed that Daichi is asking for him specifically. Ryuu dusts sand off Shoyo's shoulders and pushes him forward with a pat and a smile. Ukai doubts that Shoyo will get along with Tobio, bu he has already bonded with Ryuu and Tadashi both. He doubts he and Tobio will hate each other forever. 

 

Shoyo still holds half an orange as they walk outside the tower walls to a ledge overlooking the city. Dusk pours over Sunspear, and the sight strikes the boy silent. 

 

"I have asked Ukai to have Tobio train alongside you and the guards from now on." At mention of the princeling, Shoyo turns with an odd look in his eyes. Daichi has not seen either of them speak to the other since Tobio's arrival three weeks past. Tobio did not often leave his chambers, but Shoyo never sought him out either. He is silent for a long moment, and Daichi leans against the ledge until he lowers his gaze and responds, 

 

"Very well, m'lord." Shoyo's quiet attitude is uncharacteristic of him, even Daichi can tell after a mere few months of knowing him. He hums softly and ponders the oddball duo of wildling and prince that have come to his court. 

 

"When you arrived, you told me your past." He begins, quieting to a gentler tone. "You told me about your parents, about the Wall, and about your sister. Braavos, Gulltown, Ashford. You told me all these things, but you never once mentioned Tobio when you spoke of living in King's Landing. _Why_?"  

 

Shoyo watches the city below them, and the silence stretches on long enough that Daichi knows he will not be answered any time soon. The boy's face when he first came to Sunspear is something he cannot forget. His ghosts still linger, and Daichi sees that Tobio is just another one of them locked away in the wildling's heart. He accepts that Shoyo won't speak, and with a light pat on his shoulder, Daichi leaves him with the fading sun. 

 

 

  

Weary, Daichi winds his way through the Tower of Sun to his daughter's chambers. It is late, but he needs to see her. A brief reprieve from the stresses of the day. When he enters, Koushi is already inside. He turns to see Daichi's tired smile as he approaches. 

 

"Good evening, my star." He whispers upon seeing their daughter dozing in his arms. They sit in silence for a few minutes and soon enough, Daichi realizes he has fallen asleep for a few hours. Koushi's eyes are closed as well, and his heart swells at the sight of Satomi holding onto his shirt. He wakes the lordling quietly to ask him to bed, but Koushi decides to stay instead. Daichi kisses Satomi's forehead then the side of Koushi's lips and bids them good night. 

 

The feeling of an empty chamber is not unusual, but it is unpleasant. He thinks to himself that he should go to Yui's room instead to be with her. Solitude does numbers to Daichi's wandering mind.  

 

As he removes the crown of suns and sets it on his desk, he smells the faintest hint of incense. He wonders if Koushi visited the sept to pray or if the servant lit incense that morning. Koushi, preoccupied by plans for the princeling, had stayed with Satomi to have time to think quietly about the issues at hand, so Daichi is alone in their room. The question lingers along with the smell as he moves about the dim chambers. It is warm and familiar against the chill of desert nights. Smoke and sand. After taking off his heavy coat and boots, he extinguishes the candles one by one. A chill runs through him. Of only a few left aflame, there stands a single red candle burning brighter than the rest. Smoke and shadows and flame. 

 

Daichi watches the candle for a long moment, entranced by the flickering white and gold of its fire. There is an exhale, a reverent word. He cannot breathe. 

 

" _Dārys_." He cannot feel the other's presence with him, but Daichi knows they are standing there even before he turns to meet their eyes of embers and shining gold, bright and ever watching the Prince before them. They step closer into the light, casting away the darkness to reveal themselves. The name sticks in his throat, yet he reaches towards them ever the same. The raven hair, scarred cheek. Ghost of a grin. 

 

"You have returned to us." He says, and they nod. 

 

"I was called home." The song of their mother tongue curls around the edges of every word. Ancient and unknown in Daichi's kingdom of sun. Candlelight casts their face in an odd light, a mix of relief and worry, and their skin is warm under Daichi's hand. 

 

"Where is he?" There is the question he had been dreading. The question he has no answer to. He lowers his gaze to the floor when a heavy guilt drops in the pit of his stomach. Four months his captain of the guard had been missing. In his anger, his blind rage, Daichi had cast out the one standing before him for causing the disappearance. Banished, not unlike what the crowned King had done to his bastard brother. The guilt eats Daichi alive. 

 

" _Ñuhys dārys_ , Where is Asa—?" The door clicks open, 

 

"My Prince, sorry to bother, but Koushi decided to—" Light pours inside as a guard enters bearing a torch and news of the silver lord's thoughts. Daichi catches the shock on Ryuu's face before he has proper time to react to the intrusion. He hears the uttered word " _you_ " before the torch falls to the ground as he rushes towards them. The shadow lets out a happy shout and immediately wraps their arms around Ryuu's neck as he gathers them quickly into his arms. 

 

"You— Noya, _shit_! Fucking— seven fucking hells, Noya, you're back." A stream of swears follows and then a laugh, earnest and full of joy that had been missing from Ryuu for months. Nishinoya only hugs him tighter and grins in delight. 

 

"I've missed you." They say excitedly as soon as Ryuu pulls away and gives a moment to breathe. Noya's smile eases Daichi's worries for now, but he knows the question won't be forgotten for long. The two friends speak for a few moments; Ryuunosuke asks how long they have been home, Noya asks if Koushi is well. Their hands never seem to leave each other, grasping arms lightly, a touch on the cheek. A second embrace. Noya says they have come home, and the truth is that Ryuu's home has come back. 

 

"Have you seen Chikara yet?" Ryuu asks, and the name lights up the other's eyes. Noya responds that they came straight to Daichi himself after making their way through the three gates. Ryuu exclaims that they need to see the second sun immediately, and Noya agrees. As if remembering the Prince's presence, they both turn to him in a sort of question of permission; Daichi cannot deny them this. 

 

He pities his brother when the duo sets off suddenly, jumping over the fallen torch without care to sprint down the corridors and up a flight to where Chikara's chambers are. Daichi collects the torch as he follows them and finds Chikara's chamber doors left wide open as Ryuu and Noya's voices echo down the otherwise quiet hall. He fears that Yui might wake, but figures she would not mind the chaos once she realizes who has returned. 

 

"Chikara, Chikara—!!" Noya cries, 

 

"Wake up, Chikara! It's no time to be sleeping." The guard laughs as they shake the poor sleeping prince awake. He's a terrible riser, horrible in the mornings and worse past midnight. However, as soon as he recognizes the lilting voice of Nishinoya above him, he bolts awake and throws his arms around them in shock. From the doorway, Daichi can hear Chikara's absolute confusion mix with sheer joy. Ryuu was not the only one affected by their departure from Sunspear. His brother and the lieutenant had learned to live on their own, without Noya. It had hurt, but all is well now. Daichi has no doubt Hisashi and Kazuhito will rejoice to see the familiar face. Noya chimes, 

 

"Good morning, _dārilaros_." Bleary eyed, Chikara glances around. Daichi sees the sleep-muddled question in his expression. 

 

"How is it morning in this darkness?" 

 

"It's maybe an hour past midnight, my dear prince." Ryuunosuke laughs the response, and Chikara scowls just a hint, but pulls Noya into another embrace. The smaller settles easily against the prince, and Ryuu fits himself against Chikara's side with an arm around both of them and a grin for miles. The soft sound of footfalls turns Daichi's head to the left. Koushi steps forward with a curious look and as soon as he hears Noya's laughter, he knows. 

 

"Noya's home." Koushi breathes, and under the torchlight, he sees the faintest hint of tears forming in his lover's eyes. Daichi wraps an arm around his waist and brings him closer, kissing his temple sweetly. 

 

"They're home." He echoes. 

 

The question comes crawling back. The nagging thought that has torn at Daichi's mind for months. He watches Noya kiss at Chikara's cheeks once then twice then ten times again until the second Prince is almost crying laughter. Daichi knows the joy will not last forever; Nishinoya will not settle for the Prince's lack of knowing. They only left because they felt no hope here, but Noya said they were called home, and he knew that home for Noya was not a place, but a heart. Koushi leans into his embrace, and in the brief moment of peace, Daichi knows it is soon time to search for Asahi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **valyrian: dārys = king. ñuhys dārys = my king. dārilaros = prince, heir apparent.


	3. the Sword & hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idefk what to tell y'all about this chapter. it's a whopping 12.2K b/c the chapters concerning the capital are less frequent, so they're lengthier. that being said, this chapter is nothing like ch1 with new arrival to dorne, and nothing like ch2 with its nice things. this chapter is very heavy, and very dramatic. that being said, i hope y'all enjoy/bawl your eyes out.
> 
> **companion fics to this chapter have been written by the lovely eacides!! [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3331673) happens before ch3 begins, [when kyoutani leaves](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3327953) at iwaizumi's command, this happens. and the bath scene ends [like this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3339989).
> 
> tw: infidelity, almost-assault, rough but consensual sex. more infidelity. implied abuse. there's some rather heavy content, ok.  
> pairs: iwa/oi, hana/matsu, iwa/kage. implied oi/kage, kin/kuni & kyou/yaha. .

The raven squawks when the knight grabs hold of him. His mood is less than pleasant, and in his frustration, he tugs roughly to free the letter from the raven's leg before letting it go. The raven is from Dorne, the first news from the south in weeks. The letter from the Wall came two days ago, the letter from Highgarden even earlier. Fluttering, the raven flies to settle on a higher post away from him.

"My Lord Hand?" Hajime turns to face a blue-robed servant standing at the entrance of the rookery.

"He has returned."

Hurried footsteps echo through the stairs of the White Sword Tower, one hand helping him along the whitewashed stone. The other still grips the letter from his squire, unread. His brother awaits.  
When he throws open the door to the round room, Hajime sees him standing there in their sacred white. The grin that the other gets is pure and relieved.

"Issei," He laughs and rushes to meet him halfway for a bone-crushing hug. Issei laughs a breathless sort of cough, not likely expecting this welcome. The knight had been sent away on such grave circumstances, with harsh words from their new King. It had all been Hajime's fault, and so Hajime is happy to see him home.

"Welcome back." The Hand says as they pull away from each other, hands lingering on arms, warm. Familiar. The cloaks they wear are symbols of their family here at the Keep. They swore to be brothers years ago, and still they stand, although not without many trials to test their vows. Issei nods,

"It's good to be home." He glances once at the door behind them, as if expecting another to come forth and greet him. The capital still waits the return of its Master of Whisperers. Hajime puts a hand on his shoulder to offer a bit comfort before returning to business as usual.

"Did you bring the steward, as asked?" With this question, Issei pulls a face and moves towards the door. Hajime follows with a sweep of his cloak.

"You know he hates King's Landing. He sent his son as usual." Hajime snorts a laugh in response to this, remembering the dozens of other times the steward of Highgarden sent his young son instead of bothering to appear before the King himself.

"Perhaps we ought to name him steward instead of his father." He says offhandedly, but the thought is more appealing the more he thinks about it. The boy was of nineteen years, he could reign as Lord in his own right. The change would cause a conflict with his father, and it would most definitely start a few rumors. However, he had proved himself very apt as a liaison to the capital for the past three years, and with a proper advisor, he could rule.

Hajime mulls the thought as they exit the White Tower and make their way through corridors and colonnades to the Great Hall where the King awaits. Just before they approach the throne room, they see the steward's son pacing there before the grand oak and bronze doors. He greets Hajime, but when he goes to kiss his cheek, stops suddenly and stares wide-eyed at him,

"Ser — what happened to your face? Did the hellhound do that during a sparring match?" He motions to the darkening welt on Hajime's brow with a worried expression. His lip is busted as well, and that doesn't escape the boy's notice. Issei had known better to ask when he saw the bruise earlier, but the same could not be said about Shigeru. He frowns, and assures him that it's nothing to be concerned about. For now, they have to greet the King.  
They push open the doors to the Great Hall, and with their entrance comes a hushed silence of awe and observation.

The King stands, and from his throne, he laughs,

"Dear cousin!" He descends the dozens of steps down to the court floor where the nobles and citizens alike part to make way for their liege lord. Behind him, Hajime can almost hear the heir cringe at the loud affections.

"Your Grace." Tooru seems to delight in Shigeru's response, for when he meets his cousin, he pulls him into an embrace instead of simply kissing him hello. Hajime tenses slightly when Tooru pulls away, and they lock eyes.

"My Lord Hand." To anyone else, it is a fond address, but Hajime can hear each word drip with restrained rage. It is custom, Hajime reminds himself, and the people are watching. So he steps forward and bows his head just a hint, eyes ever watching Tooru's expression of utter disdain. He is the Hand of the King, and the only person to ever stand on barely equal ground with Tooru himself. He will not genuflect, but he puts on a show for the people looking on. Tooru isn't the least bit satisfied; he wants Hajime's will to bend entirely to his own. Hajime knows.

Tooru steps even closer, takes Hajime's hands in his own, and smiles so sweetly.

"Kiss me, good ser." He says in a quiet tone. It hints at disaster, and Hajime forces himself not to scowl as he leans forward to touch his lips to his King's cheeks twice. It is custom, he repeats. It is what is expected.  
When he pulls away, he takes his hands from Tooru's. He lets his right hand fall on the gilded handle of his first sword, while he focuses not to ball his left hand into a fist yet again.

"Ser Issei—" Tooru starts, and the knight kneels before him as if proper. He echoes the dutiful address, and stands when allowed. "Thank you for accompanying my dear cousin here today. As usual, Lord Yahaba couldn't make it even though he has been Steward of my family's home for almost eleven years now." Issei nods without a word to say; the thinly-veiled anger isn't directed at Issei at all, but at Shigeru instead. Hopefully, by frightening the boy, it will send a message to convince his damn father to do his duty. Tooru's father never cared when Lord Yahaba started sending his son in his place. The brunet shifts uncomfortably, and Tooru ushers him forward with an arm around his slim shoulders. Hajime watches the sun glint off Tooru's crown as he climbs the steps of iron to reseat himself on his throne.

 

When Tooru dismisses court, he dismisses Hajime just as easily. He sweeps his cousin away with a grin that reeks of falsities and leaves Hajime to deal with the last proceedings. As Hand, he has the right to sit upon the throne in the King's absence, but even standing too near to it makes him sick. Only one month ago, he knelt before the gods and his new king to accept this sacred duty. Only one month ago, he went from being a simple man of the Kingsguard to the second most powerful man in Westeros. He wonders how anyone has survived this life of politics and pressure.

Hajime escapes court when a page delivers word that the Master of Laws was waiting in the Tower of the Hand for their meeting. The news couldn't come at a better time, and Hajime exits hurriedly. Lord Irihata was a heavier set man of fifty years. Hajime greets him with a brief smile of formality, but also of relief. Irihata was the Hand of the King before Hajime himself and had served Tooru's father since the second year of his reign. He was calm and collected, but also a brilliant strategist and respected by many. He and Tooru's father worked together to clean up the empire from the mess of kings past, and had truly helped the Seven Kingdoms flourish. Hajime had taken to seeking his guidance often, since Hajime, although raised as the heir of Oldtown, was not trained for such a heavy burden as being the Hand. He needed the advise, the expertise of his predecessor, and thankfully, the lord was happy to help.

They sit and discuss politics over sweet water tasting of apples, and Hajime begins to feel more at ease. Dorne seemed the largest issue due to their new guest of a banished prince, but problems had cropped up along the Wall, in the Riverlands, and even in the Vale. He doubted the Northern or Vale lords wanted their assistance, but Hajime didn't feel he could ignore the wildling attacks of late. The Night's Watch was writing to them about aide, whereas the Vale was silent about two rumbling, perhaps rebellious lords.

"The Vale will look after itself, it's best we don't interfere with that." Irihata decides, and Hajime agrees. He had met their liege lord when he came to see the new King crowned, and Hajime felt an instant dislike towards him. Seeing him standing there with his long robes and haunting grin just seemed to confirm every rumor surrounding him. The man had left his mysterious Keeper at their home of the Eyrie, otherwise, Hajime was sure he would've seen an even fiercer, darker lord arise.

As Hajime begins to draft a letter to the Wall, he begins to think about that scheming Vale lord. It was said that he chose his Keeper, his most trusted advisor because they had been friends since birth. Every bit of gossip surrounding the Vale could be traced back to their relationship. In contrast, the Lord of the Stormlands had chosen his advisor after knowing him for only a handful of years. Hajime recalls how reserved the advisor was to contrast his energetic and loud Lord, but he could see the complete trust between them. Then, they had the Dornish Prince himself whose advisor was his declared paramour and the one who bore his bastard daughter two years ago. Even with his lover, Daichi also relied on his lady wife for counsel and, if Takahiro's information was correct, had recently asked his younger brother to help rule as well.

He dips his quill in the inkwell to rewet it, but before he writes anymore, a question arises.

"Why did the late King choose you as his Hand?" Lord Irihata watches Hajime for a moment. The question had come seemingly out of the blue, but in truth, Hajime had pondered the thought for many nights now. They had joked as teenagers about Hajime becoming Tooru's Hand when he rose to be King, but they never imagined the day would come so soon. They imagined they would have seen forty or even fifty summers before the day came to crown Tooru, but only twenty had gone by. Younger men have ruled, he knew and thinks of the men from his previous thoughts. The Prince had ruled since he was fifteen, the former lord of the Vale passed away when his son was only fourteen. The lord at Storm's End was a year younger than that when he took the throne. They only ruled one land, however. Tooru had seven lands that, as a little boy at Highgarden, he had never dreamt of ruling. He was only meant for the Reach, but that was taken from him when his father was given the Iron Throne.

"He was the heir to Highgarden, and I was the heir to Ashemark. We ... well, we became friends during tourneys of our youth as two mere knights, and when we became lords, we counseled one another and reminisced on simpler days. He saw I had a talent for politics, and chose wisely." As he speaks, Hajime continues to write. Irihata pauses, as if to gauge Hajime's reaction to his words, before speaking plainly. "It was not because we were in love." At this, Hajime stops and looks up silently. He expects judgment, or perhaps disgust. There is only a quiet knowing. Why else would Tooru choose Hajime as his Hand when the former could have done a much better job advising him and helping to rule? Why else but for love.

"It makes for a good song, you know." Irihata says, very matter-of-fact. Hajime sets down his quill, no longer able to focus on the decree they were discussing before.

"A prince and his knight, now the King and his Hand. The bards loved to sing of your love before Tooru was crowned, before he gave you that Valyrian blade. But then you two stood before the Seven hand in hand, a young King and his lover as Hand. Now there are songs aplenty."

"I do not want the people to sing songs about us. I want them to be well-fed and safe." Hajime mutters.

"And that they are. They are also singing, as people do. It is their relief from the every day, from the humdrum of their otherwise dull lives. They will sing, and you will rule. It is as it has always been."

"We were never meant to be King and Hand. He was meant for Highgarden, and I for Oldtown." He sighs, raking a hand through cropped, black hair.

"And Tobio was never meant to be named heir, but that happened. The Seven have chosen this for us, and indeed they are cruel." Tobio. Oh, If the gods were at all cruel, they were cruel to Tobio. Hajime tenses at the memory of when the will was read. Tooru had worn his crown for only a day before Irihata revealed that it was never meant for him, but for the late King's bastard Tobio. Gods, Hajime could not forget the way Tooru screamed nor how Tobio looked more terrified than ever before. It was a nightmare of a day, one that can only exist in dark dreams where reality has been cast away entirely. Even when he felt Tobio's hands clawing at him to let him go, Hajime couldn't register that this was the truth. How could Tooru's father betray him like this? How could Tooru betray his brother with such banishment?

How could Hajime be witness to this cruelty by the gods?

"I can finish the decree by myself." He picks the quill back up to write, hopes the other doesn't see his hand shaking.

"You're excused, my lord." Irihata takes only a brief moment to collect his papers before bowing his head and leaving the solar with a quiet word.

"It doesn't get any easier." The tip of the quill hovers above the paper, trembles. Hajime snaps it in half.

 

Tooru summons him to supper, but just before he enters the door, Issei warns him that he's not been summoned as a guest but as a guard. Hajime stares at him for a long moment before making a frustrated noise of acceptance. Of course, he grumbles. The King summons him to dine only as a joke. Of course.

When he pushes open the door, he immediately catches sight of Tooru's smile, such a disingenuous smile. His stomach curls into a knot.

"Your Grace," Hajime begins, catching sight of another guard besides he himself; he scowls at the sight. "I didn't know the family dog would be joining you for supper."

"Iwaizumi." The younger guard snarls in response. He wears no white armor, could never be cloaked as one of the seven brothers even if he wanted it.

"That's ser or Lord to _you_ , Kentaro." Shigeru cuts in, tone sharp and already rather annoyed with Kyoutani despite having just arrived in the capital a few hours earlier. The heirling is seated across from Tooru and has to stare directly at Kyoutani as he rolls his eyes behind the King.

"That kind of shit doesn't matter." Hajime watches Tooru's eyes follow the conversation, and when Shigeru shoves his chair back to stand and challenge the guard, Tooru's lips twitch up into an entertained smirk.

"He is the Hand of the King, show him some damn respect —"

"Now, now, cousin. The food has arrived at last! You should sit back down, and we shall dine." Shigeru stares, stunned, at his cousin king for a moment, perhaps captivated by his smile, perhaps too enraged by Kyoutani to back down so easily. He clenches his fists, balls them tightly and reseats himself without looking away from the warrior standing behind Tooru in an arrogant slouch. Three servants carry the platters of food to the table for the two to enjoy. Their favorite soup from Highgarden, braised rabbit with onions and leeks, sweet plum pies for last. Tooru had the Pentoshi pale brought out for Shigeru's pleasure, and they both drank quite a few cups.

As they drink more wine and as the food begins to settle, the cousins begin to chat and speak pleasantly. Shigeru forgets to glare at Kyoutani as much, and Tooru does a good job of ignoring Hajime. Shigeru talks of Highgarden, and Hajime catches a hint of a real smile. Beyond the façade, Hajime can see the heartache, the homesickness. Highgarden was Tooru's home, their home. He was born in King's Landing, and Hajime in Oldtown, but they had spent their childhood running through the orchards of the Reach, climbing the walls of the castle to overlook fields of riches and roses. They played and laughed and first fell in love in the walls of Highgarden. It was home, but they are confined to King's Landing now.

Shigeru makes the mistake of addressing Hajime partway through the plum pie. He is in the middle of a rather hilarious story when he asks Hajime the name of this lady they both once knew, and that's when Tooru's smile disappears again. He doesn't even bother to plaster on a fake expression for Shigeru's sake. Hajime had done a good job of keeping silent as the Kingsguard are expected to do. He is a guard, a silent shadow here at this dinner, not the Lord Hand nor a guest. When Shigeru addresses him, he breaks Tooru's game and angers the King as a result. Shigeru's wine goblet has been emptied one too many times for Hajime to subtly ask him to turn his attention back to Tooru. Poor boy, Hajime thinks. To be caught in one of Tooru's games.

"Cousin, dear, I think it's time you should retire to your chambers." He says in a low, steady tone. Too steady, too calm for the anger Hajime sees. Shigeru turns his head in confusion to look between Tooru and the knight. When he begins to ask why in a tense, awkward voice, Tooru snaps, barks out Shigeru's name, something he rarely does.

Shigeru rushes to leave.

"Follow him, Kyoutani." The King orders through gritted teeth, and Kyoutani turns with an incredulous expression, but before he can even speak, Tooru orders him to leave. His order is absolute, and the guard begins to storm away muttering rudeness and swearing at him. Hajime catches him by the arm in an instant.

"Apologise." He demands. Kyoutani yanks at his arm, but Hajime is stronger by far. He holds the guard in place and only tightens his grip, digging his fingers painfully into the other's arm and watching him wince in pain before finally submitting to Hajime's will and grunting an apology to Tooru. Instead of being insulted, Tooru just tells him to leave yet again, and this time Hajime allows it. Hajime turns back when Kyoutani storms away. Footsteps fade down the hallway, and he speaks.

"Tooru—" Without listening, Tooru brushes past him and refuses to even look at him. The sick feeling in his stomach from earlier returns in full force. " _Tooru_!" He says loudly. He wants to reach for him, grab hold of his hand and pull him back. Not in the way he grabbed Kyoutani moments before, but in the way that they've always held each other close.

Tooru walks away.

  
The capital carries on as it always has; Tooru as King, Hajime as Hand. For a week, they cooperate, coexist, but there's no friendliness nor love between them. The only reprieve to the mind-numbing tasks of each day is when Hajime finds that he is able to join the knights at training one morning. The Lord Commander takes watch of their King, and Issei manages to join Hajime in the yard for the morning. They're both breathless and grinning within the first hour of training. As Kingsguard, they train relentlessly with one another, but to join other knights and their squires is a different joy. It's new and exciting, even after years of wielding a blade. Hajime's bruised brow is almost entirely healed, only a yellow stain remains and, while among the men, he can escape the harsher outside reality of what has become of the Seven Kingdoms and his own King.

He and Issei spar for so long that he forgets anything at all except the blade in his hand and even the cheering around them is nothing but white noise. When the white noise becomes utter silence, Hajime knows something is off.

They both seem to feel it at the same time, and Hajime first sees Tooru step into the yard with his cousin at hand. He has on his courtly robes and although he wears his nameday sword belted at the waist, Hajime sees no intention of its use. When Issei turns with an exhausted sigh, but the breath seems to catch in his throat. Beside Shigeru, a taller lord stands smiling. Their Master of Whisperers, having returned at last.

Issei breathes out his name, and it's only a whisper. No title, no address. Only a name. Takahiro smiles, almost as if he heard. The King beckons them forward, and they approach only to bow in greeting to the two of them. Hajime raises his head first, and presses a kiss to Tooru's outstretched hand. He is the King and thus is greeted first, but after him, Hajime kisses Takahiro on the cheek with a half-grin. When he steps back, Issei greets Tooru in the same courteous fashion, but to Takahiro, he is unable to do anything but bow his head once again. He is but a knight, and Takahiro was raised to the title of Master of Whisperers, given a place at the King's small council not a month earlier. When he was simply another lordling, and Issei was simply another knight, things were easier. Simpler.

Takahiro says the quiet word "ser", and Issei raises his head and accepts Takahiro's kiss on his cheek. This is the only love they can show here in this courtyard full of watchful eyes. Hajime lowers his gaze and thinks of how things were much simpler before Tooru took the throne.

  
  
"Has our little brother written yet?" Issei asks as he kicks off his boots and leans back in his chair. Hajime lifts his head from the table and mutters a small curse before clambering out of his chair to go rush upstairs. He hears a call from the elder knight, but the echoes of his footsteps heavy on the stone stairs drown out anything except for the thought of Yutaro's letter. Hajime's chambers are small and barely decorated. It's easy to find to crumpled letter on his desk. His chambers in the Tower of the Hand are well-furnished and expansive, but it is a comfort to be within the smaller, stark white walls of the White Tower. Everything is familiar, and this is where he and his sworn brothers live.

"Pick up your shoes before the Commander comes." He says as he reenters the room and shoves at Issei's head lightly, forcing a chuckle from him that hasn't been heard in days. Seating himself next to Issei, Hajime yanks open the letter and reads quickly, searching for any good news from Dorne. Prince Sawamura had written Hajime directly to inform him of the duo's safe arrival at Sunspear a month past, and his own kinsmen from Oldtown had written of a successful bargain with the Dornish for trade, but no news since then. Yutaro's letter holds the first news of the banished boy, the would-be king.

"He's training again ? With a man named Ukai? Isn't that the general that fought in the Northern War?" Issei comments curously, "I thought he had gone into exile after last year's uprisings." Hajime finds the name on the page amongst other news.

"No... Sawamura wouldn't bring him back, not after all that ugly business between him and the second Prince. It must be his son or grandson, perhaps." He murmurs in thought, trying to recall if he was ever introduced to the general's son or whoever this successor to the name must be. He had shared a striking resemblance to the knight Hajime squired for; a man with cruel eyes and a patience to no one. He chalks it up to another trait of the Dornish.

"Even with the drama, to have exiled such an accomplished military leader is a bit … well, foolish for a liege lord." Issei leans back in his seat, having read the letter and its details and allows the other knight his space.

"You don't know the Prince's love for his brother. The Dornish value family so much, you'd think they were from the Riverlands." He snorts, and then rests against the back of his chair as well. "Besides, one general is nothing compared to what that mad man of a Vale lord did three years past."

"Gods be good — people may think thing are bad here, but at least Tooru's no kinslayer."

"No," Hajime exhales. "And let's hope it stays that way."

  
The silence of the halls at night always unnerved Hajime somewhat. He never minded the silence in Highgarden, but it has always felt like the walls of the Keep were watching him, whispering awful things to the darkness like secrets and sins. The shadows made him uncomfortable, like a creature lurked with dragging steps behind him, just ready to grab him, pull him down. Even the flames' light from the sconces couldn't ease this feeling. He never found anything pleasant in the darkness, never saw any good hiding there. His hand tightens on the handle of his sword as he exits the corridors to arrive at the drawbridge before the Holdfast. Two knights cloaked in white stand there chatting quietly, and Hajime recalls that one of them was assigned to be Tooru's guard for the night. He calls out their names and both turn and nod their heads hello.

"Wait a moment — why're you here, Hajime?"

"Why are _you_?" He demands, "You ought to be guarding the King."

"Well, he said that you were going to be with him tonight, so he dismissed me."

" _Well_ , obviously I'm not, you _idiot_." He hisses and makes a note to tell their commander about this the following day.

He quickly turns his attentions from the knight's offended expression to make his way across the drawbridge to the Holdfast.

"I'm not a complete idiot; I didn't leave him alone — the Hound is with him." Hajime glances back for just a moment with a look of utter frustration and barely contained rage. Kyoutani was no guard; he was a raider, a bloody thief forced to play the role of a guard because Tooru spared his life and decided to play a game.

The Holdfast is dark. Torches have gone out after not being attended to, so obviously Tooru ordered the servants away from the Holdfast as well. His stomach clenches uncomfortably, like a sickness has grabbed hold of him. It is the fury, he thinks. The jealousy.

He hears the echo of a curse from up ahead and slows his step so he can hear the King's voice clearer. There's an exhale, a groan. Delight, pleasure. Hajime knows the way Kyoutani watches Tooru; he's always looked at him with hunger and need. Hajime thought he could control it. He thought he could control Kyoutani. The Hellhound respected Hajime's superior strength and that Tooru chose him over everyone else, but he was never satisfied. He wanted only to have Tooru, to ravish him and claim him his. His chest aches at the thought that Tooru would take another to his bed, his stomach curls because of al the people, why would he choose this man.

" _Stop_ —!" He hears Tooru cry out, and it's all the reason he needs to interrupt.

Before he can process what he's doing, he's thrown Kyoutani to the floor.

His knuckles ache with every hit. Kyoutani fights back, but Hajime's pinned him with a knee to his gut and has his guard's armor to weigh the dog down. Tooru's collapsed against the wall, slid down to the floor to stare in horror. Hajime sees blood, wants to spill Kyoutani's blood all upon these stone tiles til this horrible feeling subsides. When Tooru screams his name, everything stops.

He feels Tooru's hands on him. He unclenches his fist. Every bone in his hand aches and screams, but Tooru's was the only thing Hajime could think of. Shaking hands grabbed at his face, tugged at Hajime until he finally looked into the eyes of his love. When Tooru begs him, it's as if Hajime's head is far under water, and he's scrabbling to breathe.

"— ... — ... — _Hajime_!" He hears an inhale, a gasp. A sob. Kyoutani sputters up blood in his coughs, and it stains Hajime's silver white armor. He stumbles to his feet and staggers away from the mess. Kyoutani groans in pain and turns to push himself up on one elbow, then fights to stand. Hajime fights to control himself.

"I'll have your head for this, dog." He says, chest heaving. Kyoutani hesitates; it's almost as if he considers fighting for Tooru's attention. Hajime can feel the swelling rage in him, yet Tooru's hand finds his, clings tight and yells at Kyoutani to leave. He flees without another thought. Forcefully, Tooru pulls Hajime down. His knees hit stone, and the pain draws him back to the reality of bloodied knuckles and his King's terror.

"Why?" Hajime exhales. Tooru's hands are scrabbling to hold his face, to stroke his cheek so gently like he always used to. Tooru doesn't respond. "Why would you turn to another? Why would you bring him to your bed?" Hajime feels him tense, feels the air catch in his lover's lungs like the way his fists caught on Kyoutani's jaw. The soft touch on his face leaves him as Tooru draws back against the wall. His eyes are hard and unforgiving.

"Because you betrayed me _first_." He says, and his voice is as cruel as the way he watches Hajime. His body trembles from the adrenaline of watching his knight fight his dog; his hands shake in knowing he caused it all.

"You allowed it." Each word has a cruel emphasis. The truth is heavy, and Hajime sees how it hurts his King more than anything else could. Tooru's face twists into something awful, something ugly from the amount of hatred that seems to seize his every move. He suddenly slams his hands against Hajime's chest, shoves at him until the knight grabs Tooru's wrists tightly and forces them against the wall. Their bodies are close. Closer than they've been since Hajime hit Tooru, since Tooru fought back. It was violent and messy, terribly messy. Hajime bit at Tooru's skin. Tooru pinned him down to take control. Raw words and whispered vows rang in their bedchamber. Tooru's voice breaks,

"I didn't allow you to _love_ him." All the anger crumbles to grief and heartbreak. Tooru's hands go lax in Hajime's grip. He squeezes his eyes shut to fight the tears.

"What has this kingship done to us?" Hajime asks, but the sound of Tooru's sobs makes his words go unheard. He lets go of Tooru's hands and watches his King wrap his arms around himself as the despair overcomes him. The darkness is too much for Hajime to bear. The night tugs at him, beckons him to gather Tooru into his arms and bring him to their bed like they were eighteen again, only a knight and his prince. Everything has been twisted, though. Twisted and turned into something awful, something ugly and all because of a King's crown.

Hajime stands and, despite a sudden cry, a desperate plea, walks away.

  
A page in gray interrupts Hajime and one of his sworn brothers as they break their fast the next day. The King has called the small council to order, and Hajime is expected. He sends the page away with a scowl, and kicks at his brother's chair when he stifles a laugh. His knuckles ache with every move as he dresses himself in armor and white. He wraps his cloak around his shoulders and buckles it with the sigil of the Hand. When he reaches the council chambers, Tooru is nowhere to be seen. The room is empty except for Takahiro who stands creasing a letter twice over in his hands.

He smiles briefly at Hajime, in a muted sort of fashion that makes Hajime instantly remember how horrified the brunet looked when Tooru ordered him to leave court for his treachery. He had asked where he would go. To Highgarden, or home to Horn Hill. Tooru's hands had almost bled from how he gripped the Iron Throne; he ordered him North, to the Wall where he would stay until asked back to court. Issei jumped to defend Takahiro, try to claim he had no involvement in the plot, but Tooru screamed that he was no better than the Whisperer. He was a part of the scheme as well, and he sent Issei to Highgarden to look after the heirling Shigeru. Everything could be disguised as true tasks; the kingdoms could think the spymaster went North to investigate rumors, they could think a whitecloak went to protect the King's cousin and heir apparent.

They were both home now, though. By the grace of the gods, or in Tooru's eyes, his own grace, they had been allowed to return.

A shuffling of armor and the tell-tale yawn of his elder brother in the morn signals to Hajime that Issei has arrived. When asked why he's come, Issei says he'll be watching Tooru that day instead of their Commander. Without any hesitation, he goes to Takahiro and takes his hands in his own. The smile it brings on both their faces is so genuine that it makes Hajime's chest ache. He misses gentle, easy love. He misses any love at all.

He takes to organizing papers and reading over documents while the other two speak in soft tones. He catches sight of his own father's seal and reads the reports over the finalized business agreements with Dorne and the Reach. Hopefully, he thinks, hopefully this will be satisfactory for now.

"Your Grace—" Takahiro says suddenly, and Tooru's entering the council room with three others. The Master of Laws Irihata, the Master of Coin, and he and Issei's own Lord Commander Mizoguchi. Five of the seven councilmen. More than they'd had in attendance since Tooru's first week as King when they had all seven. Since Tobio's banishment and the subsequent, and unexplained departure of not only a most trusted knight, but Tooru's good friend and advisor, everyone had been walking on eggshells and wondering who would be next.

For fortune, they manage to get through most of their business before things descend into chaos. Hajime had an awful feeling about discussing Yutaro's letter, but he knew if he didn't mention it, Mizoguchi would, and so he spoke.

"He writes Prince Sawamura's court is treating them well enough. Sugawara, his advisor, has taken to seating Tobio beside him during court, and he's begun training with the guards there." He begins, looking at the crumpled paper before him. Setting the letter down, Hajime continues, "The words seem simple enough, but they don't sound like Yutaro, so I don't think they are happy in truth."

"So? The bastard is an exile, his happiness is not our concern." Tooru says scornfully. He's crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat with a horrible scowl. Hajime's temper flares.

"And what of Yutaro? He's one of the Kingsguard, one of your knights. He doesn't deserve to be punished too." The memory of Yutaro's joy when hearing he would be cloaked as one of the seven brothers won't escape Hajime's head. It was such an innocent joy, unknowing of the darker days to come.

"You should've thought of that before sending the boy to Dorne." The laugh that follows is short and static, so very forced and it makes Hajime cringe to hear. He leans forward in his chair to challenge Hajime across the table. The utter disdain he hears makes Hajime's stomach curl. "Did you honestly give a damn about what Yutaro wanted? Or did you only fucking think of _Tobio_?" He shouts;

Hajime snaps.

"He is my charge as much as you are. The white cloak means protecting the royal family, and Tobio is your father's son whether you accept that or not." Tooru's hands curl into fists around the quill he held, and in the stunned silence of hearing Tobio's name, Hajime throws out one last thing to add insult to injury. He doesn't care right now, he doesn't care how angry Tooru is, and perhaps it is because they both care far too much. "Did you even think about what Akira might have wanted before you sent him to the fucking shadowlands? Or did you think  _only_  of your lust for power and how that _cursed_ boy would be of use to you?"

" _Hajime_!" Tooru stands immediately, shouts and shoves his chair back and slams his hands on the tabletop creating a huge bang that makes every councilman except Hajime jump in shock. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes burning with frustration, suppressed shame. He hadn't said Tobio's name in weeks; the name was like a foul taste on his tongue, and the King had tried his best to forget it. it wasn't that easy, though. Tobio's name was twisted around his heart like a grip of thorns, digging into his soul with every beat. It made Tooru sick, and Hajime saw it so clearly in his eyes.

"Leave." Hajime says. Then after a moment of inaction, he barks, "Everyone, get out _now_!" His voice echoes violently in the council room, and the demand sends the Master of Coin quickly scrambling to stand. His Commander is silent as he leaves, only glancing once to see if Hajime might tear at the King's throat. Hajime may be his subordinate in the ranks of brothers, but he is the Hand of the King and in that way, Mizoguchi must obey. Irihata urges Takahiro with a quiet word and even Issei hurries to disappear from their view. When he hears the heavy oaken doors of the throne room shut moments later, Tooru stalks over to where his Hand stands.

"You're the Hand, but _I_ am the King. Don't you dare question me like that before my council." His voice is hard and, Hajime hears, hurt. Tooru's crown had been threatened since before his first day as King, and they both remembered the council meeting with the seven Lords where it was confirmed that the throne was not Tooru's in truth.

"You made me vow to serve not only you but also the kingdoms, and that's what I am doing." They lapse into silence for a few moments; Hajime is breathing too hard, too angry to calm down after their argument. Tooru is searching for something to say. He fights the instinct to flinch when Tooru reaches a hand towards his face,

"Don't forget _our_ vows." Tooru says as he brushes the fading bruise on Hajime's brow. There is no gentle love in his voice, it's a threat, a reminder of their fight weeks before. A reminder of all the damage they've done to each other.

Damn their vows, he thinks. Too many vows, overlapping and complicating their love for one another. Vows of a knight, vows of a liege lord. Vows of a King, and vows of his Hand. Too many vows, damn them all except one: their vow to one another. Simple promises two children made to each other, then repeated for years as they grew from boys to men, little lordlings to rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Father, Smith, Warrior." Tooru murmurs, drifting closer. "Mother, Maiden, Crone." He touches Hajime's jaw, and he sees that awful darkness in his King's eyes. " _Stranger_."

"I am yours and you are mine." He responds, as Tooru mouths the same in silence. Hajime cannot resist the pull between them, and neither can Tooru. They stand too close, but refuse to reach for one another. The argument during the council meeting is too fresh on their minds. Empty chair, empty post. No one could break up the dispute. Takahiro would have gotten Tooru to laugh it off, Issei would have calmed Hajime with a quiet word. But they had only been home for less than a week, and their positions at court were too tentative now to dare intercede. So the King and Hand tore at each other with their caustic, cutting words. Their Master of Laws watched silently while the Master of Coin cringed at the obscenities used. Hajime's shouts of dismissal, rude and abrupt, sent the remaining councilmen hurrying away before the Hand turned his wrath to them instead. For all the rage, all the anger and irritations, they were still standing by each other by nightfall. For all the trials and suffering they endured over years, they could never leave.

"From this day until the end of our days." Tooru finishes, voice quiet but ever threatening. They had betrayed each other too many times before. Even once was too much, but twice had their vows been broken and both by the same person. Hajime balls his hands into fists, prepared for another fight, but instead, Tooru sighs his name like a defeat. It's the same sound from the night before, when Tooru cried out for Hajime in the black hallway of the Holdfast.

" _Hajime_." Tooru brings a second hand to hold the knight's face as he presses his lips against his. Hajime refuses to return the kiss. He can practically feel the panic building inside the other's chest, and Hajime pushes him away, too gently for the amount of anger he holds. Tooru refuses to let him go. He grabs at Hajime, pulls armor closer and suddenly their bodies are flush against one another and, damn it all, for as much as Tooru could not resist him, he cannot resist him any longer too. He grabs Tooru's waist and demands the kiss from Tooru's lips, takes it with force and he feels a grin bloom on the other's face. It's wrong, all wrong. Tooru knows too well how to devest him of his armor, and the shoulder guards clangs on the floor within moments and his breastplate follows, then the scales and mail, and Hajime is left in only his simple clothes. The sacred white cloak lays forgotten on the floor, because for now all he sees is Tooru's grin and how his hands feel on his skin. Tooru turns only a hint to shove all the papers and inkwells at Hajime's seat to the floor and seat himself on the table instead. He laughs, so brilliantly and wickedly at once, as he drags Hajime back against him, places him perfectly between his thighs and lets him know how excited he is. In between their lips, Hajime throws all caution to the wind and caves.

It's all wrong. It's not like old love, but it's not like the lust-driven nights of the year past. It's wrong, and twisted. Tainted by the memory of others. He wants to wash away every thought of another from either of their minds. His teeth on Tooru's neck, Tooru's hands hurriedly unlacing their pants. Hajime breaks away from the sweet scented skin at his collar to yank off Tooru's high boots and toss them aside and tug his pants off as well. He's impatient, so impatient and half-mad with desire that he tears open his King's doublet and shoves the shirt up so Hajime can find the softer skin there. Tooru's deep emerald cloak is spread out underneath him like a shadow to consume them. Tooru brings Hajime's hand to his mouth, tongue twisting around his two fingers to wet them. His mouth is hot, and every inch of their bodies burn with need.

He inhales, still grinning when Hajime presses his fingers inside, stretches him. Despite the rage, Hajime's instinct to protect never fails. It makes the King laugh, and Hajime remembers such a gentler time when their bodies were unknown to one another. They had drunk too much wine, collapsed into the crown prince's chambers at fifteen and sixteen years young to touch and tease and discover. This was nothing like their first time, nothing at all. It wasn't like the time they fucked in the tourney tent, excited and sweaty and laughing in delight and a hint of fear because they could get caught. Hajime's lips silenced Tooru gently as he held him and quickly brought them off. It wasn't like when they made love the night before Tooru was crowned King. That was panic and reassurances, whispered vows to seal their fate. I am yours, and you are mine, they murmured over and over like a prayer to their own gods. Gods of flesh and gods of fate. Of eternal love and ever present worries.

It wasn't like the time Hajime took another. Someone much younger, with darker hair and who had never known another before Hajime brought him to bed. He can hear the other's cries, a soft plea for pleasure as Hajime worked him open then slowly, carefully pushed inside. Dark blue eyes, so trusting and not at all like his brother's hazel brown. Hajime gasps, the guilt overwhelming him as Tooru kisses him again. Their pace is brutal, unforgiving, and Hajime thrusts harder, tries to forget anyone's face but Tooru's own. The brunet keens against him, grasps at Hajime's shoulders and begs his name in ecstasy. His nails burn and will surely bruise the knight's skin, but Hajime's own tight grip will stain the King's hips with pain for hours. He buries his face in Tooru's neck, pants as he starts to lose himself to Tooru's body and how everything has gotten so fucked up and just wrong.

"Are you thinking of him?" Tooru grits out, tries to maintain a rage but slips when Hajime's hips slam into his, desperate. Ruthless, even a hint cruel. He wants so much to forget, but the memory haunts him. Tooru lets go of his shoulders, grabs his face and forces Hajime to look at him.

"Think of me. Think only of _me_ , my love. Look _only_ at me." His voice threatens to break. His eyes threaten to betray the anger for grief, and Hajime watches him, watches only him as they move quicker. Their hips stutter, Tooru moans. Their last kiss as they climax is bruising and hungry, hungry for a satisfaction that might quell this horrible feeling inside them both.

  
"I'm barely holding the kingdoms together with both hands." Tooru whispers as the soft silk cloth trails along his skin. The bath water is probably too hot for Tooru's liking, but he hasn't complained yet. Hajime gently dabs at the dried blood along one of his worse bite marks on the other's shoulder. He winces, but doesn't complain. The candelight shows all of his insecurities, all of his doubts and nagging fears.

"You're not alone; I'm here, remember? You asked me to be your Hand that night your father died. You have an entire council to help you rule." Tooru leans his head one way to bare himself t the other. The scent of roses fills the room, and it's such a warm, familiar feeling to be together. Neither fights the other's touch. It's quiet and familiar. Tooru gnaws on his lip, twists his fingers together and wrings his wrists as Hajime speaks, "It's not only your burden to bear."

"I fear they may never forgive me." He turns his face from his lover, hides the guilt and sorrow mixing in his expression. Hajime sighs and rests his arms on the side of the bathtub.

"Who? The small council? Because they witnessed your rage? They'll forgive you, and they will serve you. The Grand Maester believes you are the true king, the Master of Ships has held his office for decades and is the damn finest admiral of Westeros. Lord Irihata will serve the kingdoms faithfully and also you as your father's son, it matters not that we took the Handship from him." Tooru brings one of his hands to his mouth to gnaw on his nails instead, and with another sigh, louder this time, he takes Tooru's hand in his own and kisses his knuckles comfortingly.

"Takahiro will forgive you too. He has been our friend for years, and cares more that you allowed him home than you sending him away in the first place."

"And Issei? I sent him away from his family here, from his sister and that boy of his."

"He is just happy to be home as well. With his family, with Takahiro. He will forgive you, he will support you. We all do." To prove his words, Hajime kisses his knuckles one by one. It is an adoring gesture, so private between them because it makes Tooru flush with a smile. Weak as it is right now, it is a smile.

"It's not fair to punish them though: Takahiro and Issei. They followed my lead, … you should leave them be." He murmurs, still holding onto Tooru's hand loosely. Tooru looks pained for just a moment before giving in to this demand.

"I need them. Both of them." He admits, entwining he and Hajime's fingers tightly. Hajime motions him closer with a tug, water splashing quietly over the side of the tub. He places his lips so lightly on Tooru's, and tastes roses.

"You'll always have us, Tooru, my love. My King."

  
Dawn brings a better day, or at leas that is what Hajime hopes. He wakes Tooru as the sun is breaking on the east sea and the spring breeze drifts through his open windows. The King murmurs good morning and runs a hand through his hair to even out the sleepy mess. Hajime dresses as he does every day, and as he's clasping his white cloak around his shoulders just before he leaves, Tooru calls out "I love you" and Hajime echoes it back easily.

He hears the city start to awaken all around him as he and Issei make their way on horseback from the Red Keep to the Great Sept. Issei leaves him halfway to go visit his sister, and Hajime waves goodbye for now. Under the guise of praying together at the Sept, some days, Issei will ride to the home of his sister which lays just before the Hook. Hajime has never minded being used as a cover for his sworn brother going to see family. Their vows tell them to take no wife, father no sons. But Issei was seventeen and only a knight, not a whitecloak when his lover was suddenly with child. He's twenty four now, and his son bears a striking resemblance to him. Having met the youth many times, Hajime laughs at the boy's long limbs and thick eyebrows. The traits run in his family blood, thankfully, and his sister's sons look no different. He fits in easily among them, and always delights to see his father, despite knowing he can never be his true son.

Hajime himself still speaks with his family; he misses his parents and his littler siblings. His next brother is turning fifteen soon, old enough to be a man despite being named heir to Oldtown when Hajime took the white and forsook his birthright. He smiles at the though of his littlest sister who has seen only six summers. Per fortune, Hajime never had the desire to father sons; before he was an adolescent, he had already sworn to become a Kingsguard one day. Where Issei often prayed to the Father to watch over his son, Hajime prayed to the Warrior for valor, for bravery. He asked the Smith for the strength to do what need to be done, and lately, he had taken to praying to the Crone and asking her wisdom.

Minutes go by without Hajime realizing how long he's spent kneeling at the Crone's altar. He only realizes how long he's stayed when the Sept begins to clutter with people come to ask the gods for blessings and goodness on their lives. Hajime stands, knees groaning, and goes to light a candle quietly at the other three altars, stopping only to bow his head and mumble a brief prayer before continuing. He saves the Stranger for last. Its silent , faceless effigy unnerves him, but he pays his respect nevertheless. He prays only to ask the Stranger to watch over the fallen ones he loved. To guide them to peace. He does not praying asking them to take someone from this world. Even the thought of it makes him sick. He thinks he is the only person standing at the Stranger's altar, but a quiet voice sounds behind him.

"My Lord Hand?" He turns, and the dark black eyes that stare at him haunt Hajime in an instant. On instinct, he tenses, and upon seeing Hajime's defensiveness, Akira seems to shrink away. He barks the question of what Akira wants, and the boy starts to scratch at his arm under the dark grey serving robe.

"It was said you received word from Yutaro." The boy only had a few friends in the capital, having come to the Keep five years ago, and then leaving before that first winter began. When he returned the year past, Akira was a completely different person. Darkness in a room seems to spread when he's around, and the Stranger's statue seem to loom above him. Yutaro never seemed to mind the shadows, either not noticing it at all or willfully ignoring it. He and Akira kept each other company; read together when Yutaro was free from his duties as Hajime's squire, spent free days in the city side by side. Hajime caught them with training swords in hand sparring one night, and it took him only a moment to realize how Akira was no novice to wielding a sword. He tried to forbid his squire from training the sept boy, but they were willful and young, and they spent more nights together than apart.

"It was about Tobio and how they're settling into Dorne." The way Akira's face twists in disdain reminds Hajime of why he always had an uneasy feeling about him. Meeting after a murder attempt was probably the least pleasant way for them to be introduced. Hajime had found him hiding in the woods near the bridge. His own clothes had been soaked through, and he had held the King's bastard as he coughed up river water and grabbed for Hajime in fright. They hadn't been formally introduced. Hajime stood silently behind Tooru as his sworn sword, a simple ser, when the King met his bastard for the first time ever. When the boy went missing within the hour, Hajime found him drowning in the Mander and a black-haired boy watching from atop the bridge. It was the worst way to meet, and it left an awful impression on the knight. Even with how affectionate Yutaro was of him, Hajime never saw past the blackness on his heart. The blackness consumed him in Asshai, took over him entirely. To some extent, it frightened him. Then again, he felt he owed his little brother at least this, so Hajime continues,

"He asked after you, however." The Sept bustles all around them, but no one dares approach the knight who stands beneath the Stranger. There's a hint of a smile from the boy, but in an instant it's gone as his expression returns to the tired, brooding state that makes Hajime think the shadows are the boy himself. "Shall I tell him you are well?"

"That would be most kind of you, my lord." He murmurs, and a sudden sobbing noise from a woman who has thrown herself at the Mother's feet distracts Hajime for only a moment. When he looks back, Akira is gone, and the room seems a bit brighter. Hajime shifts uncomfortably, and leaves the Sept before the boy can find him again.

 

The courtiers notice almost immediately when they see the King and Hand walking side by side chatting. They weren't discussing anything particularly interesting, only whatever gossip Takahiro had whispered to them earlier, but to see them together again outside of their obligations was a relief to all. Tooru even smirks once or twice at the more salacious details of one affair, and the lack of scorn in his smile brings ease. They cross paths with Shigeru, and Tooru stops to talk to him, run a hand through his cousin's light brown hair with a grin. Tense at first, Shigeru relaxes quickly when he senses the sincerity of the other. Hajime allows them a moment to speak as he gets distracted watching the knights training nearby. He catches sight of the light-haired guard, and the calm he had managed to obtain leaves him in an instant.

" _Kyoutani_! Come here." He orders, and the dog turns with a scowl. Hajime can see the bruise on his jaw despite his darker, tanned skin. His shoulders seem to hunch in on themselves when he stalks over to the Hand and grunts in greeting. Tooru notices Kyoutani in an instant. How could he not? Hajime crosses his arms over his breastplate and watches the guard for a moment. Turning to glance once Tooru and his cousin, Hajime speaks in a hard tone,

"From now on, Kyoutani, you will be serving as Shigeru's guard. When he leaves tomorrow morning, you will return to Highgarden alongside him." Kyoutani instantly freezes up, and Shigeru cries out in blatant refusal.

"You can't be serious, ser!"

"Why the fuck would I serve _him_?" Kyoutani snarls, shoulders hunching in a defensive gesture. Hajime stands straighter, glares down at the younger man.

"You will serve as his guard, because I have commanded thus. Don't you _dare_ speak against me, dog, lest you wish to return to the sands of Dorne from which you came." His words are so absolute that half the courtyard has stopped to listen, and it is a testament to Kyoutani's stubbornness that he doesn't cower from fear. Surely, he can still feel Hajime's fists against his jaw, can still taste the blood in his mouth. He is vicious, but he is not stupid, and the dog backs down. Shigeru is less afraid.

"Cousin, Tooru, _please_ don't permit this." Shigeru dares to grab hold of Tooru's arm, gently but firmly in fear. Hajime spots a mark of purple and red just under his collar that triggers something in his mind. Tooru looks at his knight for a long moment, then only a second to see Kyoutani's silence.

"The Hand speaks for the King. The Hound is to return with you to Highgarden." The moment Tooru stops speaking, it's like something in Shigeru snaps and he forcefully lets go of his cousin's sleeve. It is rude, disrespectful. It is completely out of character for the boy Hajime knows so well, and as he storms away, followed very hesitantly by Kyoutani, something feels off. He tilts his head an inch to watch the two walk away from the leering eyes of courtiers. He watches how Kyoutani stares so obviously at the heirling.

"Don't you think my cousin looks like a younger me? It must be the hair, or maybe also our eyes." It clicks in Hajime's head, and he hisses quietly,

" _Don't_." Tooru smirks in that scheming way, and Hajime glances quickly at the fading figures of the two destined for Highgarden, and feels an awful guilt stir in him.

"Too late, it seems."

  
Hajime tells Tooru he isn't about to forget about Shigeru as they enter Tooru's solar where Takahiro, the Grand Maseter, and Lord Irihata await. Tooru shrugs it off, and tells everyone to be seated. The Grand Maester speaks first, slowly and low which makes everyone sort of strain to hear.

"We must discuss your marriage, Your Grace." Almost immediately, Tooru is rolling his eyes and has already dismissed the idea in his head. He mutters _whatever_ , and is quickly chided by Irihata, perhaps the only man besides Hajime himself willing to admonish the King. Irihata only dares privately in this solar with council members, though, and for that, Hajime is grateful.

"As King, you need a wife, a queen. An heir would strengthen your rule, surely you must admit that is true." The half-grumble, half-hum signals that he is at least in somewhat agreeance. Hajime gives him a look telling him to take this meeting seriously. "It was allowed for you not to wed when you were prince, but now more than ever, it is necessary." Tooru hums again, then suddenly,

"Why are _you_ here, Takahiro?" He stares at his whisperer, who is caught between wanting to laugh at the sudden demand and remembering the tense atmosphere of days past. Hajime raises an eyebrow curiously, to tell Takahiro everything is alright.

"As your Master of Gossip, I'm here to tell you which ladies are available to wed." He smiles that fox like grin, and Hajime can see Irihata fighting to smile as well. Takahiro's humor always lightened the mood, even on such distasteful subjects like this.

"Wonderful." He says dryly, and waves his hand pathetically to tell him to carry on.

"The Lady Itoku is still unwed and only three years elder. Marrying her would bring the North under our control, and her family is incredibly wealthy because her mother was the daughter of White Harbor."

"I've met her; she's terrifying. _Next_." Takahiro stares at their King for a heartbeat of shock because couching a laugh and continuing.

"Lord Irihata's second granddaughter Naomi is eighteen years of age, and her family has a history of healthy children. The Westerlands were supportive of your throne, and this marriage would sizably increase trade across the middle kingdoms.

"Maybe." He murmurs, perhaps not to offend Irihata, but Hajime thinks maybe he considers it in truth.

"The Lady Kiyoko is a year elder, but rules Kingsgrave in her own right and has protected the Mountains of Dorne by herself for years, even before her father's death. She is a good friend of the Prince and Princess, and she would secure Dorne under your rule without a doubt."

"The Lady of Kingsgrave..." Tooru echoes strangely, then he sits up a bit in his seat. A light sparks in his eyes, and Hajime cannot fathom the idea that Tooru is willing to wed this Dornish woman. "Her mother was Myrish, wasn't she? It gave the lady an Essosian look... yes, I remember her."

"We met her." Hajime says, remembering the sleek beauty with black eyes. "At the Prince's wedding to Lady Yui, I recall now."

"Ah, your little once-fiancée. It would've been easy to wed the Arbor without complaint." Takahiro says with a hint of amusement in his voice. A vast number of Tooru's court was comprised of men from the Reach. They were honorable and dedicated to the Oikawa family, so it was easy to appoint them to offices instead of daring to venture and ask a possibly less so loyal man from another kingdom. Years ago before Hajime and Tooru came to the capital, they lived at Highgarden with the brunette girl who now sat on the throne of the sun. She was to be Hajime's wife at first, an easy alliance of Oldtown and the Arbor which had happened often in their family lines, but Yui's family back out when Hajime moved away.

"She wore that black gown with gold, and every man looked at her or the new Princess." Tooru leans on one hands with a knowing smirk. "They danced together quite a lot, didn't they? The Prince flaunted his new paramour, but Yui didn't mind because the lady of Kingsgrave was there." Hajime remembers clear as day watching his old friend laugh and swirl in circles and spin merrily with the beautiful, but quiet Lady Kiyoko. Tooru laughs,

"She'll have _no_ interest in me."

"Nor you her." Takahiro says without a moment to rest. He snorts out the response, and on any day past, Tooru would have become quickly enraged, but he fakes an offended expression — maybe for the poor Maester's sake — and hushes his whisperer. The Grand Maester coughs his awkwardness away and mumbles about the truths of marriage.

"As a nobleman, but moreso as our King, you have no choice of marrying for love. You must marry for politics and for peace. The Dornish make a terrible enemy, but an even more exceptional ally. With a lady of such importance as your queen, they would never think to rise against you." As he speaks, all the humor seems to fade from the conversation. Tooru inhales deeply, folding his hands over one another as he looks to Hajime for support. Hajime shows him a sympathetic expression, but then it's a look of gravity, because the councilor's words are true. A King needs a queen, and for now, a Dornish queen is their best bet.

 

He searches for Shigeru in the Holdfast and finds him with wet eyes, shoving his belongings hurriedly into the wooden chest bearing his family's sigil. Two roses, one smaller placed a top the larger. A symbol to say that his family is but a cadet branch of the true Oikawa clan, of matrilineal descent instead. He wipes quickly at his face when he hears Hajime enter, and stands immediately to greet him stiffly.

"Are you alright, Shigeru?" Hajime asks, concerned. The heirling takes a step back when he approaches, and Hajime is quick to slow his step and err on the side of caution in this moment. At this pace, Shigeru allows him to approach, or perhaps doesn't have any fight to tell him otherwise. "Earlier, I thought I saw a bruise—" He reaches for the boy's collar to confirm, but Shigeru pushes his hand away. His breath hitches realizing he's been so rude, but then the anger — an emotion Hajime is so familiar with nowadays — overwhelms his normal polite features.

"What have I done wrong, ser?" He asks, voice shaking. Having seen Hajime's confusion, "Why am _I_ being punished like this?"

"You're not at fault for a single thing, Shigeru." Hajime tries to say, but before he's done, Shigeru has thrown the garment he held among the pile in the chest.

"Who's fault is it, then? My beloved cousin King is perfect in every way, and I am surely not. _Surely_ it is my fault, because Tooru cannot be to blame." His hands shake, and his delicate Reach skin is flushed with humiliation and frustrations. "No one in all the Seven Kingdoms can compare to him, you know. Not even his own brother. Surely I, his mere cousin, am nothing. _Nothing_." Kyoutani's face comes to min and how he lowered his head truly like a dog and accepted his barely-hidden expulsion from court. Shigeru is a lord's son, and although Hajime knows he is used to being second best to his cousin, he is not so easy to defeat.

"That's not true," Hajime says, and tries to reach for Shigeru again, but he backs away and shakes his head with a laugh. Broken, betrayed.

"You know, he always punished Tobio for being their father's favorite, played games with him for years. Now that he's exiled to Dorne, I suppose I am his next target. An easier one, perhaps." He has to wipe at his eyes once more. The knight looks down to spare him the shame of being seen. "I'm just another game to him, same as Tobio was, same as Kentaro too." His breath is a shudder, a sob. "I don't know how you love him, ser, don't know how we all love him still." After a beat, he inhales again and runs both hands over his face twice to clear his mind. Shigeru composes himself so quickly that Hajime nearly says he and Tooru have more in common than they'd like. When he asks Hajime politely to leave, the man can do nothing but comply.

  
Tooru's hand is warm in his, the tear stains on his cheeks can barely be seen in the darkness.

"Promise me." He whispers, "Promise me you'll be by my side, that you won't leave—" Promise me, Promise me. The words echo in his head.

He's armored in stark white, brilliant gold-lined armor knelt before the Crowned King.

"Are you my sword, my servant, my shield?" Yes, yes, his proclamation rings throughout the Sept. The crowd watches on in absolute shock as their new lord unsheathes the brilliant Valyrian blade. His family's heirloom, the symbol of his home.

"Take this sword and be the Hand of the King. My Hand, to serve the Seven Kingdoms and their King from this day til your last."

Tobio is screaming. Horrible, gut-wrenching sobs as three knights drag him back to the palace. It is near midnight, and his cries wake half the castle. Hajime's gut twists over itself. Tobio begs.

"He cannot know." Hajime whispers in a dim corridor. He grips Issei and Takahiro's hands tightly, asks them to risk their lives for what? A bastard boy?

They nod, and the dark treachery only spreads from here.

The Dornish Prince agrees,

Issei keeps Tooru away.

"Where are we going?" Yutaro asks into the darkness of night. Hajime wished he could have given the boy a proper ceremony after all his years of dedication and service. He pulls him by the hand through the White Tower, silent so not to wake the others. One set of armor fits him perfectly, and Hajime yanks off his own cloak, bundles it up, presses it into Yutaro's shaking hands.

"This is yours, little brother."

He hates the smell of blood,

He hates how Tobio's eyes are red from grief and his skin dark with abuse.

He wraps the cloak black as night around both their shoulders as he whispers a silent prayer for them both. Yutaro breathes the name Akira, but Hajime says there's no time.

"Leave my horse. Tobio, you will want your mare in Dorne." Yutaro hustles Hajime's steed back into it's pin and mounts his own. Hajime's arms are secure around the princeling, the named king. The banished boy. Tobio leans against him in exhaustion, and Hajime whips the reigns, rearing the half-mad mare into riding quick and fast.

"Swear it by the Seven, Yutaro."

Swear it and should you forsake this, may the Stranger take you away.

Yutaro swears.

The ship's captain calls out to them, and the men are ready to sail. To Sunspear, to a safer place where Tobio might live.

"Protect him." He murmurs against Yutaro's cheek,

Tobio's lips tremble against his own, but Hajime holds his face firm in two hands and breathes a prayer.

 _Gods be with you_.

 

The sound of violent rain sends him jolting out of bed. His hands grasp at silk sheets fervently. The feel of another lingers on his lips, and the darkness is all around him. It's like there are two hands at his throat, suffocating him with this guilt and all over damnable emotions. He begged the gods for guidance, and then damned him for what actions he took. His chest aches, and Hajime doubles over, pulls his knees to himself and feels the panic swell.

"Hajime." A voice calls in the night. Tooru stands over him suddenly, a gentle hand on his back rubbing circles to ease the pain. He must have learned it from Hajime himself, who had so often woken Tooru from nightmares through the years. This was no nightmare, however, and when he looks at Tooru, it's like he knows. His lips are pressed into a thin line, but he doesn't back away. He sits beside Hajime, hand stroking circles until the knight's calm and breathing again. He runs a hand down his face and looks to the downpour outside. They both hate the rain. Hate the way it melts the earth into mud, hates how it makes them think of death and decay. It rained the night Tooru's father died, but the sky had cleared by time morning came and Tooru wore his crown. He shifts to lean back against the pillows and pulls Tooru to him without a second thought.

This is where he wants to be.

This is where he needs to be.

Tooru is his one love, the true King, crowned and blessed by the gods. He rests his forehead against Tooru's own and lets the sound of the storm drown out all other thoughts than this.


	4. the snow Crow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. i planned on this chapter being shorter and nicer and happier, but that didn't turn out very well. we venture back to dorne in this 12k chapter from another new point of view. as a note, if not for emphasis, then _italics_ indicate another language besides the common tongue. will be said in text.
> 
> please enjoy.
> 
> warnings: mention of depression. general angst, yknow. drunkenness/alcohol at a feast night.  
> pairings: enno/tana implied. kin/kage implied. asa/noya.

He feels the wind against his skin, feels the open air combs its fingers through feathers and settle easily under his wings. He watches Sunspear come alive under the mid-morning sun; merchants and dornishmen bustle about while the sea rocks against the coast and the bazaar alights with excitement in spiced tongues. He swears he smells every scent that floats up from the alleys crammed full of bakers and butchers alike. Inhaling, he smells bloody and fresh meats in the same streets as baskets of blood orange. A loud cry sounds out, a cawing that scratches his throat and sounds truer to his tongue than any Common Tongue he's ever said.

" _Where were you?_ " Shoyo blinks, and his sister's bright eyes watch him curiously. Her innocent, so sweet eyes don't hold an ounce of concern, only blissful curiosity. Natsu doesn't know the wandering, the pull to escape anytime he sees an animal flying free or running without bond. He's glad she doesn't know what it is to be lost.

" _A hawk, I think, but maybe I was a crow._ " He smiles, and she returns it tenfold. She throws the wooden stick in her hand as far as she can and watches the little hound chase after it eagerly. Watching her, he feels at ease.

" _How do you say "_ desert _," brother?_ " She asks with a hum. He furrows his eyebrows to think of the translation, but he can't think of a single thing equivalent to desert, or even sand. The pup whines loudly at Natsu until she throws the stick again, and Shoyo responds,

" _I … don't think there is a word for it. There's no such thing beyond the Wall._ "

"In Valyrian?" She tilts her head to him as the dog comes running back. Shoyo smiles, and tells her the word in their third tongue. It was her first tongue, he supposes. Her first words were in Essos, so it's only natural for her to desire to know it all. She echoes the word and nods happily before resuming their conversation about crows. Natsu crouches down to scratch the pup behind its ears and calls it cute names in mixed tongues. He hears footsteps, and then his name. Turning, Shoyo catches sight of the grey-robed Maester making his way towards the two of them. He smiles.

"Good morning, Maester." They both chime.

"And to you, Shoyo. Natsu." Takeda returns the smile kindly, and Natsu returns to playing fetch. "I noticed your sister was absent from this morning's lesson."

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't have guard duty until this afternoon, so I thought I would spend some time with her." He laughs and scratches the back of his head. Takeda tells him that he can teach her during the training hour, if Shoyo wants. They agree, and the wildling lapses into silence for a moment as he watches his sister. The spring warmth is fading to summer heat, and even after years in warmer climates, he still gets a bit overwhelmed.

"What language were you speaking just now?" The Maester asks curiously. He undoubtedly recognized the Valyrian, so song like and studied so often at the Citadel.

"The Old Tongue." He responds. "Our mother wanted me to know it, and I think she would've wanted her to know too." Their language is rough and cold, like harsh ice and clanging metal. Or so he's been told. The Common Tongue sounds too gentle, like words melding together in mush and mud. All the men around him at the Wall spoke it, but it never sounded like home, not like the tongue of the free folk.

"Ah... I wish I could teach her such an important thing at lessons, but regretfully, there's no book containing the wildling language." Shoyo shrugs it off, and calls Natsu back to him. He thanks the Maester for giving up his time to teach her that afternoon, and Takeda smiles. They leave side by side with the dog trailing behind his sister, and he hears her asking about desert animals.

 

The flush from physical exertion feels good. His lungs ache from it all, but it feels good. Shoyo feels strong as he jogs through the three gates. He used to run along the castle perimeter, but he found it more exciting to jog through the city and see the morning awaken. When he reaches the edge of the shadow city, he takes a few moments to rest and then return to the old castle. Each morning he goes through the same routine, same run. Shoyo tries not to think as he runs, just lets the wind guide him and lets himself feel the city's life around him. He will think when he's back at the castle, but for now he wants to run. It's the most natural thing to him. Feeling his heart pounding miles a minute, breathless and sweat dripping down his spine as his mind screams faster, faster.

He's made friends with a quiet inn keeper at the edge of the city. She speaks in heavy accented tones like a true Dornish woman from the sands. He always buys a glass of water from her and takes a few minutes to drink and let his muscles get some oxygen again. As he's resting, he spies someone interesting.

It's a man who's been here maybe half the mornings for two weeks now. He never looks up from his breakfast of bread and dried meat, but everyone in the room seems to notice him anyhow.

"I'm not going to tell you, snow boy." The innkeeper laughs when he starts to ask. She busies herself with tidying up the counter and talking to other customers. Shoyo stares. The man has burnt bronze skin from too many days under the southern sun. He has dark russet hair cut ragged at his shoulders, and even with the traveler's cloak, Shoyo sees his incredible strength. At first glance, he thought the man was a Dothraki fighter, but he remembered they have never crossed the Narrow Sea. Strapped to his back, Shoyo identifies what is likely a great sword wrapped in coverings to hide it. With his physique, the man looks like he would be a terror while wielding a blade, but right now, he's just quiet and alone. He looks tired, Shoyo thinks. Apparently, he says it out loud because the innkeeper slaps his arm with a towel and remarks,

"He's probably tired of you staring."

Shoyo apologizes in an embarrassed whisper and hurries to take his leave and return to the castle.

 

"We need to find him!" Shoyo hears a sudden shouting as he's stretching in the training yard that afternoon. The Prince is trying to quiet the black-haired mystery that arrived a week ago. Nishinoya, Shoyo remembers. They met when Shoyo was wandering the castle one night. He thought he saw Ryuu talking to himself when suddenly the shadows shifted and a pair of burning eyes found Shoyo's and frightened him to the core. The newcomer — although Shoyo figured out he had been at Sunspear for a few years, actually — immediately seemed to know everything Shoyo had to hide, and it sent him hustling back to his room to sleep, or at least try to. Now, here in the light of day, he is loud and opinionated, even to the point of frustrating Prince Daichi into snapping at him.

"Not now, Nishinoya. I have a meeting with one of my cousin's men, and I _really_ can't talk."

"Is politics more important than Asahi? He was your best friend, our captain—" Daichi cuts the other off and hissing something quietly, too quietly for Shoyo to hear from where he and Tadashi are preparing for training. Whatever he says seems to send Noya away in a huff, and Daichi strides off the other way.

"Asahi?" Shoyo repeats. The name is strange to him, but familiar to everyone else apparently. Tadashi nods. "Nishinoya … why does he care so much about this Asahi person?"

" _They_." Tadashi says as if correcting him.

"Who? Asahi?"

"No, _Nishinoya_." Kei says with an annoyed tone. Shoyo glances up at him sitting with a book in hand, staring boredly at the pages.

"What about him?" At this, Kei sighs again, but instead of continuing, Tadashi interjects.

" _They_ were Asahi's lover. When Asahi disappeared after a bloody skirmish with a band of ironborn, the Prince banished Noya as well. Blamed _them_ , actually. They've come home to find Asahi." Tadashi's emphasis on one particular word makes it click in Shoyo's head, and he makes a quiet "oh" sound before humming.

"Why did Prince Daichi blame them?"

"Mm. Supposedly, they were supposed to kidnap an ironborn to interrogate in the cells of the Spear Tower." Tadashi lowers his voice and begins to smile a bit. His tone is dramatic, and Shoyo leans closer in wonder. He knows little of Nishinoya, and nothing of this absent captain. "Prince Chikara was good friends with Noya, and had a horrible argument with his elder brother about the matter. It was their first spat since the second Prince returned home." The page glances around for a moment before quieting even more and whispering, "He even called him a tyrant."

"What?" Shoyo stares at the younger Prince who was chatting with Ryuu off to the side of the yard. Shoyo can't imagine for a moment him calling Daichi a tyrant. He always sees Chikara as friendly and kind, much gentler than his brother who wore the sun crown. Perhaps, between the intimidating figure of Ryuunosuke near him and Daichi's control and power over Dorne, the younger Prince was cast in shadows and seen weaker than he actually was. Shoyo shudders to think of standing in defiance of the Prince.

"How do you know all of this, Tadashi?" He asks. Tadashi blinks to process before lowering his head sheepishly.

"I'm only a page, you know. Nobody really notices me, so I hear many things." Thinking back, Shoyo barely noticed the other boy when they first met. He remembers thinking about how tall and pale Kei was for a dornishman, but he only noticed Tadashi a while later when he joined them at swords training. It was easier, he then cam to realize, to befriend the page than to befriend the lord, and in befriending Tadashi, he eventually got Kei to start warming up to him. Tadashi began his swords training only a short while after Shoyo himself did, however, and Shoyo never once met the captain.

"Did you know him at all? Asahi? What was he like?"

"Strong." A voice interrupts. They both look up, "Dedicated, and compassionate, but undeniably Dorne's strongest warrior." Koushi smiles down at both of them. Tadashi contains a small squawk of embarassment at being caught gossiping.

"Excuse us, my lord! Shoyo asked about him, and I, uh..."

"Couldn't help but retell a few rumors?" Shoyo shrinks away a bit at the odd smile Koushi gives. He's normally so kind, but at the moment, his smile makes Shoyo's stomach clench tight with fear. "It is rumored the scar on his brow is from a duel with a mountain man. It is rumored that he is actually a mercenary for hire who murdered the heirless King two crowns past. It is _rumored_ that he sacrifices prisoners to the red god." The boy glances briefly at Tadashi to see him lowering his head and avoiding Koushi's gaze. He does the same, and hears Kei behind them snicker behind his book. Koushi is quiet for a moment before,

"Rumors won't help you wield a blade. Focus on training, boys." When they both see his footsteps farther away, they raise their heads and glance at one another with guilty, nervous grins. Shoyo had been warned by Ryuu never to anger Koushi, but he thought it was only a joke.

"Why is he so mad?" Shoyo mutters, and Kei sniggers again.

"Are you dim, crow?" The name ground on his nerves, but Shoyo forces himself not to respond. "Lord Koushi was friends with Asahi as well. Prince Daichi, Lady Kiyoko, they were all friends, and he's gone. Obviously, someone's going to be upset that you two are gossiping like little girls." He grits his teeth and stands quickly to go join with the men beginning to train. Ukai calls out for them all to gather, and Shoyo catches Ryuu saying goodbye to the second Prince with a kiss on his hand. His gaze follows Ryuu in an attempt to forget Kei's teasing and calling him a "crow." When he joins the gathering men, he goes directly to Koushi. Shoyo nervously follows, and Tadashi is soon beside him.

"What're you doing here?" Ryuu asks with a grin, and as soon as Koushi moves, Shoyo catches sight of the dark-haired prince behind him.

"I decided to spar with and train prince Tobio today." He feels his heart stop as soon as he meets Tobio's blue eyes. He remembers the capital boy's hands at his throat, remembers his anger so clearly. Training was this one place he was always sure he could avoid Tobio, because after that one day weeks ago, the whitecloak always kept Tobio away. A panic rises in his chest. He turns as quickly as possible, but runs straight into Tadashi and knocks them both over with a loud cry.

 

Ryuu can't stop laughing at the poor wildling boy as they walk along together sometime after training. He apologizes for his laughter, but the incident where Shoyo ran smack into Tadashi was too amusing for the guard to let go.

"— … — … —" Shoyo turns his head. He hears the lilt of Valyrian before he recognizes the speakers. Moving on instinct, he follows the sound until the corridor opens into the grand gardens at the center of the palace. Ryuu asks him where he's going to, if perhaps he insulted him, but he doesn't answer. He's too focused on the sound of Essos that's found him here in Dorne.

He finds a group of four chatting with their pants rolled up and their feet dangling in one of the ceramic inlaid pools. He recognizes Nishinoya immediately when they call out Ryuu's name, but then the second Prince turns to greet them as well. Shoyo remembers the strange accent he heard earlier when Noya was yelling at Dorne's Prince, but he didn't expect Prince Chikara and his two companions to also speak Valyrian.

" _You all speak Valyrian?_ " He asks in said tongue, and, judging from the Dornish reactions, he assumes they did not expect him to speak it either. Noya cries out happily upon hearing him, and the other three laugh in mixed surprise and delight as well.

" _As do you, it seems._ " The sailor says. Kazuhito, if Shoyo remembers. Suddenly, he hears a frustrated curses followed by a ragged sigh beside him and sees Ryuu turning away quickly with another string of swears.

"Of course, he speaks it too. How fuckin' perfect." Shoyo turns back to the group with a confused expression, and asks what happened. The Prince pulls an expression and yanks his feet out of the water to hurry and stand.

" _I could go?_ " Noya offers, but Chikara smiles - weakly, and shakes his head.

" _Don't worry. He's probably only mad at me ... you know how Ryuunosuke hates it when we speak like this._ " He ducks his head down with a guilty, pained frown and excuses himself as he brushes past Shoyo. He watches him leave wet footprints along the dry, hot stone as he rushes after the angered guard. He hears Chikara call out the other's name as he storms away, and as he gets closer, he reaches for Ryuu only for Ryuu to yank his arm away. He hears a bit of yelling, including Ryuu shouting the Prince's name with no title or address as he tries to leave again. Before Shoyo can hear more, Chikara takes his hand and leads him to where no one can't see.

He turns back to the others with a gnawing guilt in his gut.

" _Are they okay?_ " He mutters, and Noya half-shrugs before patting the spot beside them for Shoyo to sit.

" _They'll be okay_." Noya says, and then Shoyo obliges. He sinks to the ground and shucks off his boots, rolls up his breeches to his knees like the others before he dips his feet in the water. It's cool and brings an instant sigh to his lips, and he exhales a lot of his worry after Noya's assurance.

" _Ryuu was really upset when Chikara left Sunspear._ " Kazuhito speaks again, and Shoyo sits up a bit straighter.

" _Some part of that sadness still remains, and it's turned into bitterness. Hearing us speak reminds him of a very difficult time._ " Hisashi, the other of the Prince's companions, bites at his nails a bit as he speaks. The subject is obviously sensitive, so Shoyo hearing all of their drama makes them all a bit uncomfortable. He wonders if Tadashi knows all these secrets, and guesses yes. A Prince leaving his city? How would anyone not know at least something? Well, except for Shoyo obviously.

"They'll be okay. _They got through things worse than us speaking Valyrian._ " Noya says again, and both the companions nod at the other before they launch into a series of questions for Shoyo. " _How do you speak Valyrian? How long have you spoken it? I thought you were of the free people, why do you speak Valyrian?_ "

Shoyo's head spins trying to think through all of Nishinoya's questions. Their excitement is contagious, though, and melts away many of Shoyo's nerves about speaking this tongue in Dorne. He was so used to only speaking it with his sister in an attempt to preserve their past. He hadn't conversed to another native speaker in years.

" _Ehh … I learned when I was ten, but my true tongue is that of the free people_."

" _You learned in Braavos, no?_ " Noya asks with a grin, and Shoyo is shocked. He hadn't been training using Bravosi technique since before their return, and surely they couldn't have been told by the Prince or Princess.

" _Yes, Braavos. How did you know?_ "

" _Noya loves accents. They can imitate anything, it's fantastic._ " They spend a few moments listening to Noya's various accent tricks, and Shoyo laughs in delight. When they speak in Bravosi dialect, they sound as authentic as the man who trained Shoyo to wield a sword. Noya even begins to speak in the language of the horselords, and Kazuhito retells the story of Noya meeting Asahi and assuming he was a Dothraki Khal. Noya comments that in all their days, they've never met a wildling, but they substitute the word in Common Tongue and laughs.

" _If there was such a word, that would be my name for you_."

" _I think Shoyo is fine, that's what everyone calls me. Except Kei_."

" _Nishinoya likes to give people names. Daichi is_ dārys vezo, king of the sun _. Yui is_ daria rūkloti, queen of flowers _. Chikara is_ dārilaros, the prince." Hisashi grins. Noya kicks their feet a little to splash him with water playfully. " _What do you call Ryuu? Strength? Strong?_ " Noya shakes their head,

" _No, no._ Nedys!"

"Brave! _That's what it was,_ one who is brave." The blond nods with a dreamy sort of sigh, as if the title is something romantic, and perhaps, between friends, it is a joke at Ryuu's flair for dramatics in the training yard. Shoyo knows the lieutenant, but not nearly as well as these three. He can see their friendship in every soft word, in each note of concern. Shoyo feels more at ease with the three of them than he had felt with even Tadashi and Kei. Maybe it is because they were all speaking in this language that rings so close to home, but maybe, he thinks, maybe it's the knowledge that they were all strangers in a foreign land like he was.

"Zoklo." Shoyo says abruptly. The three stare at him for a long moment, unsure of the random interjection. " _That's, eh. That's what I was called in Braavos._ " Nishinoya grins with all their teeth and echoes the word,

" _Wolf_."

The conversation drags on under the afternoon sun. Shoyo dodges most of the questions that get too personal too quickly. For the most part, they all seem to understand. He only arrived in Sunspear a little over three months ago, and they chalk it up to him being new and unaccustomed to the candid Dornish nature. The group's chatter is interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps returning and the younger Prince's return. He smiles wearily as he settles back between Hisashi and Kazuhito. Shoyo notices Ryuu's pointed absence.

" _How did it go?_ " Noya asks. Chikara rubs at the back of his neck as if he's uncomfortable, but he speaks nonetheless.

" _Oh... the usual. He says he understands why we speak in Valyrian, but he is frustrated that he cannot understand us, and he just wants to be alone right now. In short, he's, ah ... very mad_." Without speaking, Kazuhito lays his hand over the Prince's and offers quiet advice.

" _I think you should talk to him later, once he's off duty. It'll give him some time to calm down, you know_." To this, he only nods with a quiet "ok." Shoyo feels the question bubble up inside of his chest, and before he can tell himself not to, he blurts out,

" _Why does he hate when you speak Valyrian?_ "

"Shoyo, _that's quite personal_..." Kazuhito begins to admonish him, and the boy feels his face flush with shame. He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, but he couldn't wrap his head around the thought that someone who be so vehemently against a few friends speaking their shared tongue. To him, it is a comfort, and he sees the ease it creates between the group to speak in the ancient songs.

" _No, no. I don't mind explaining. It's been over a year. I don’t mind. It's easier in the Common Tongue, however, if that's okay?_ " Shoyo nods. Without any invitation, Hisashi takes Chikara's hand in his own as the sailor had moments before. Shoyo listens without a single movement.

"During a rather dark time two years ago..." He begins, and Kazuhito nods just barely to encourage him on. Shoyo sees the nerves in each flicker of his gaze. He can see the skeletons crawling out of Chikara's soul, knows the sight so well because of all the dead he has kept locked away in his heart.

"I ran away from Sunspear and fled to Essos. Hisashi and Kazuhito came with me, but we left Ryuu along with my brother Daichi, Koushi, Noya too. No word, no warning, we just left." He swallows hard, and continues. "We, um. We hid ourselves in Pentos and intended to move farther north, always traveling and fleeing the thought of returning here. After befriending the Pentoshi prince, however, we stayed and, uh …" Chikara inhales, and it's like he can see the ghosts and guilt there in the reflection of the pool. It's terrifying, he knows. Shoyo would offer a lock and key, but he has enough difficulty keeping his ghosts at bay. When Chikara smiles, every bit of it is forced and it fades as soon as it appears. "We built lives there; we made a home in Pentos, that's how we learned Valyrian. Such a tongue became obsolete when we returned to Sunspear a year ago, but Valyrian is … like a second home to us, so we speak it among one another to, ah, combat nostalgia, I suppose. But while we built lives in Pentos, the lives of everyone we left at Sunspear were falling apart. I think that ... Ryuunosuke doesn't have a single good memory of that time, and hearing this foreign tongue makes it all come rushing back."

Chikara has to pause. Shoyo forgets the sound of his own heartbeat.

"It forces him to remember how I left him, how he was so alone in that darkness, and how … even when he thinks he's moved on, thinks he's healed that wound, … he hasn't."

Shoyo feels a weight on his chest like lead when the Prince finishes. Noya's silence is overwhelming, and he feels that if someone called his name, he might break. He thinks of the guard he knew, and now the man he knows. He forgets sometimes, beyond the hurt he holds and the burden he bears day in and day out, that others are hurting as well. He thinks back to Maester Takeda asking of he and his sister's conversation. He thinks of the Old Tongue, and of Valyrian, and of the Common language they all speak today. He thinks of what it would be like to drown in loneliness everytime he heard another tongue, and remembers that he already does.

Every moment he hears anything but the language of the free folks, he remembers that he is almost entirely alone. Here in Dorne, there are plenty of folk able to speak Valyrian; there are books and tomes and songs to remember the tongue, but not for him. For a wildling, there is only the North, and even then, Shoyo only has himself and his little sister here in the kingdom of sun. His grip on the edge of the ceramic pool tightens til he feels his hands protest and scream.

Even if the whole word spoke their tongue, he'd still only have her.

 

"Did Asahi look like the Dothraki?" Kei turns his head with the most frustrated expression when Shoyo asks this loudly at dinner. He's been trying to forget the pained look on the second Prince's face and how Ryuunosuke stormed away in anger earlier that afternoon, and so he turns his thoughts back to the captain of the guards.

"Well, _crow_. The last time I had a good chat with a Dothraki was … oh, _never_." He bites. "Why in the world would I know what a Dothraki man looks like?" He bites into his bread with frustration, and Shoyo grits out an apology. Tadashi's soft laugh draw his attention. They're all three sitting around the table in Kei's room dining on spiced duck and whatnot as the sun sets outside the windows. It's only the second time he's eaten with them, and he realizes what a mess he's making of himself conversation-wise.

"It’s another one of the rumors, Shoyo." He grins, "Asahi always wore his hair in a long braid reaching almost all down his back."

"Is that why Nishinoya thought he was a Khal when they first met?" Shoyo asks again, and Tadashi laughs with a nod. He says that while the two of them still lived at Yronwood at this time, they eventually heard the tale of Asahi and Noya's first meeting. Shoyo rests his chin on the palm of his hand as Tadashi rambles on about the captain from months ago. Dark brown hair folded into a long braid, strength of ten men. A scar on his brow and a shining great sword as fierce as the sun, forged for him by the Prince as a gift. He says something about his posture that makes Shoyo sit up ramrod straight.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"He used to hunch in on himself because he was nervous to confront people. He was actually rather quiet. A kind man, yknow. It's funny to see such a tall, strong warrior act shy next to Noya who is short but so very loud." A thought strikes him then, and he's suddenly rushing to his feet. Tadashi asks him if something is wrong, but on the contrary, Shoyo thinks perhaps something is right. He excuses himself in a hurry, stumbling to throw his shoes back on and search for someone to talk to.

He considers going to Nishinoya, but frankly, he knows little of this person. He wouldn't even know where to begin looking for them in order to talk. He thinks to confide in Daichi, but the creeping fear of his authority gets rid of that option. Koushi is another option, but he remembers his frustrations with the young court and settles on another. Finding the first guard he sees, he asks where Ryuu might be. The man says that Ryuu was off duty at sundown, but he was seen in the gardens walking with the younger Prince. Shoyo remembers the sailor's advice that Chikara ought to speak with Ryuu, and he hesitates for a long moment, wonders if he should interrupt or even dare to seek him out. Wringing his wrists, he thinks of all these little clues building and building, all these hints at a suddenly realized truth.

He needed to tell someone.

 

The gardens by now are lit by moonlight and firelight from torches all along the corridors. The moon is almost full, and the flowers are cast in silver and shadows. He treads carefully, quietly as he searches for Ryuu. The lieutenant had always been friendly and full of energy, and today, he had seen it turn to something more violent. His hands shake, and he holds onto them to steady himself. Quiet whispers lead him to the grand olive tree near the center of the gardens. When he catches sight of the two sitting together, he stops himself. Ryuu's back is facing him partway, but he can see them both sitting with their legs crossed, hands twined together and knees touching as they speak in low tones. Sitting there, Ryuu is so very vulnerable. His shoulders slump, his back is hunched slightly, and if Chikara wasn't holding his hands, they would shake. Shoyo almost turns to flee when the second Prince raises his head and notices him standing there, but the small smile that crosses his face lets him know it's okay. Chikara takes his hands back, cups the lieutenant's face and says something that Shoyo cannot understand from his distance. Every motion is quiet and gentle like the night that had fallen around them, and when he beckons Shoyo forward with a wave of his hand, he is drawn to the duo under the great, aching tree.

He apologizes for the interruption, but it's barely a whisper, and Chikara waves it off without a word. Before Shoyo can see, Ryuu wipes a hand over his face and hardens himself, loses much of that bare vulnerability he had allowed the Prince to see. As Shoyo sits, Chikara starts to stand and excuse himself. Ryuu takes his hand, and Shoyo expects a protest, a complaint, but they speak in silences and shared glances that tell more than Shoyo could ever know.

Chikara squeezes Ryuu's hand once before Ryuu lets go, and he leaves. After a long pause, the guard inhales deep and begins,

"Listen, Shoyo … I want to apologize for earlier, for storming off, y'know. I shouldn't've gotten mad at you." He repeats sorry twice over, and the wildling feels like curling in on himself. These dornishmen operate so differently than anyone he's met. They are more passionate and bold than the Reach, more dignified than the outskirts of the Riverlands. They are more straightforward than the capitol, and more outgoing than the Valemen. They are nothing like the men of the Watch who Shoyo looked up to for so many years. Ryuu is headstrong and loud, yet supportive and more loving than anyone else he'd met here. He hates seeing someone he so respects in such low spirits, but, at the same time, he respects Ryuu even more for showing this emotional side of himself. He thinks of the north, and how weak Ryuu would be considered if he were a wolf's man. Here, this is how he shows strength.

"Chikara told you some about when he, uh. When he went to Pentos, but I just wanted to say something to … to maybe excuse my actions or at least explain them." Shoyo nods, tight and expectant. Ryuu doesn't need to excuse himself for anything in Shoyo's opinion, but it is important for a man to keep his honor about him.

"That year was really difficult for all of us, it wasn't just Chikara and me. Prince Daichi reigned in terror, Princess Yui fled to Kingsgrave. Asahi refused to speak to Daichi at all, and even Noya crept around the castle in fear. … Half of Dorne was in rebellion against Daichi after he recognized little Satomi as his bastard by Koushi. …" He wipes at his nose again, and almost laughs in bitter remembrance.

"Koushi thought he and I might return home to Starfall, because maybe that would've combatted his will to die." Shoyo moves with just instinct based how he has seen the Dornish comfort one another and reaches for Ryuu's hand. Ghosts, he thinks. These Dornish are so open about their ghosts, and yet he hasn't shown a single one of his own. Ryuu smiles weakly and grips Shoyo's hand a little before going on,

"Chikara ran without a word. I searched the sea shore for his corpse, because I thought maybe he had done something so drastic. … Eventually, it was made known to us that he was living in Pentos, and when he returned, it was what caused us all to get better, to fight the darkness back to light. … … I remember all of that shit whenever I hear Valyrian. It's been far over a year, but I remember it like it was yesterday, and unfortunately, you saw that part of me today. … So, sorry. Really and truly, I hope you forgive me." Shoyo swallows hard, and shakes his head. He doesn't need Ryuu's apologies, he understands every bit of anger. He understands the grief.

"There's nothing to forgive. You're the strongest person I know, and having some flaws doesn't make you any weaker." Ryuu smiles at this, and Shoyo can see that the words bring him happiness, even a little laugh as he takes his hand away from Shoyo and rubs at his face.

"You've never met Asahi, so you wouldn't know how strong he is, really." He sighs. Shoyo remembers,

"I have." This makes Ryuu stop, and then a disbelieving laugh.

"What?"

"I think I've met him. In the shadow city, there is a man who fits every description that you all have said of him. Tall, broad man who looks almost like a Khal. A great sword, but a quiet man. I know it's him — at least, I think." His words taper off at the end, but that doesn't matter. There's a spark in Ryuu's eyes of hope, of sheer and utter hope for the return of his captain. Before he can blink, Ryuu is tugging him along, practically running down corridors until they're sprinting up staircases in the Tower of the Sun. Ryuu doesn't even think twice before barging into Koushi's chambers. Thankfully, night only fell a few hours ago, so the lord is still sitting at his desk working on papers as they clamber through the doors breathlessly. He speaks their names in surprise, but Ryuu stutters a shout,

"Shoyo's seen Asahi—!"

 

Ryuu paces endlessly that next morning. The whole castle is buzzing with news of Asahi being in Sunspear, just outside the city gates. Shoyo is saddling his horse when he hears them arguing about who will go to the shadow city with Shoyo. Ryuu argues that he should go, as Asahi's lieutenant. Koushi says that he will be able to talk to Asahi more clearly, calmly. Daichi wants to go, but he bites his request back with a word about his cousin's men being in the castle. From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Tobio standing quietly some distance away. He watches the scene, arms folded over his half-open doublet. His knight stands behind him, unarmored, but armed. Shoyo's stomach curls at the sight, and he focuses on tightening the saddle's girth probably around the horse.

"Koushi should go." A voice says, and everyone turns to look at the figure with a cloak of suns on black pulled around their shoulders. Nishinoya pulls a horse behind them, saddled and ready. Their eyes burn with such determination, and Shoyo knows they are coming along as well. Koushi glances once a Ryuu who hardens himself and accepts this decision. Noya was Asahi's lover, Shoyo remembers. Who better to seek him out than the one who was closest to his heart?

"Bring him home, will you?" Daichi says to his paramour as they all mount their horses to ride down to the shadow city. Koushi nods once, and then calls out a command for them to depart. They spur their horses into a quick sprint. There's not time to lose. The dawn is barely reaching into the cracks of Sunspear, filling little hovels with light to banish the chilly spring night. Shoyo has memorized the pathway to this inn, and prays to the gods above that this man will be there once more. Please, he prays. Sunspear has lost so much, has seen so many leave its sand-worn walls. They all come home, he knows. From all the stories, everyone always comes home. Noya, Yui, Chikara. Now it is time for Asahi.

The city stares at them as they race past. Whispers and shouts as they recognize the lordling Sugawara. Shoyo is not known, and Noya is but a shadow. Their dark, spry horse racing quicker than either of the other two. They blaze past merchants, dart around corners and wind their way through the three grand gates until they reach the sprawling shadow city far below. They pass windowless homes with just-rising men coming to glare, they fly by brothels and taverns. Shoyo calls out for them to slow when they approach the inn he knows well by now. He sees the man just seconds before Noya or Koushi, but the latter shouts.

" _Asahi!_ " His voice rings out, and the man turns. Koushi, on his dark mount, draws everyone's eye, but Asahi looks past him to where Nishinoya's horse has halted next to Shoyo. Shoyo looks to the one in black and suns, but they are silent, staring wide-eyed. For the first time, their mystery disappears and Shoyo sees only fear. Fear of rejections, fear of Asahi fleeing once more. Fear, perhaps, that they will be unable to bring their love home.

Koushi turns to look at Noya before dismounting and going to Asahi. The broad, taller man steps back on instinct, as if a frightened colt and not Dorne's finest blade.

"Asahi, it's me. Asahi, it … gods be good, it's _you_." His voice trembles, and Shoyo sees Noya's knuckles whiten from gripping the reigns so damn tight. It looks like Asahi starts to speak, but his eyes find Noya again, and he hangs his head. Koushi speaks again, starts pleading and trying to persuade their captain to return to the Old Castle. It has been too many days, too many months without him. His absence is like a weight.

"Mazīs arlī." Noya says suddenly.

 _Come back_.

The recognition in Asahi's eyes when he hears that ancient tongue is unmistakable. A language of their own, a language between two lovers. Shoyo sees Asahi move forward one step before stopping again.

"Mazīs arlī, Asahi!" They shout, and in all their rage and heartbreak, their voice cracks, and Shoyo sees this shadow break. It's all Asahi needs to break him too, and the man rushes to Noya's side, grabs them and practically yanks them off their horse and into his arms. Noya seems to sob, but perhaps it is Asahi instead. Their hands find Asahi's face and pull him down closer, reaching on their toes to kiss him surely. Asahi's arms tighten around Noya, pull them closer, and Shoyo must turn his head from the sight. Passionate and bold, those are these Dornishmen. He sees Koushi fighting to compose himself, but he covers his face his one hand. His shoulders shake. At last, their Asahi is coming home.

 

When they all four pass through the last gate and make their way to the Old Castle, Shoyo can see the Prince standing there, waiting. His brother stands beside him, hands linked as if it’s the only thing keeping them upright. Asahi holds the reigns around Noya's body in front of him in the saddle, and he bites his lip nervously. Dorne's strongest sword, the Prince's sheild, and he quakes before the sight of the sun. Koushi dismounts first. He goes to Noya to offer a hand down and then only Asahi is left atop his steed. He has a similar expression to when he saw his love, and Shoyo feels his heart ache at the sight. To be so loved by so many, to be so valued and then so mourned when you are gone. Shoyo wonders what it's like.

"Old friend, won't you greet me?" Daichi says, and his smile is too wide to be true. His hand is still held by his brother, and perhaps it's so he doesn't break too. The sun has risen higher in the morning sky, and Asahi inhales deep before climbing down and sheepishly beginning to walk Daichi's way. The Prince is too impatient, and he surges forward to meet his dear captain. His arms wind around Asahi's wide shoulders, and the guard so quickly hugs Daichi back. The second sun turns with a weak smile when Ryuu approaches in disbelief. Daichi forces out a laugh, and Asahi begins to sob against his neck.

"Welcome home." He says. Asahi only mumbles in response, too overwhelmed to speak. Daichi's hands find Asahi's short, shorn hair and he pulls back only to look at Asahi's reddening face. The entire court watches, and despite this, Daichi lets himself begin to cry.

"You look good, it looks good." He laughs between tears, and Asahi hugs him tighter with a broken "thanks" as their foreheads brush and rest against one another. They are two old souls, anyone can see. Shoyo knows they spent years apart as children only to always return to each other. Now, they are together for good.

Daichi orders them all to drink. At first, he called for a grand feast to celebrate their captain's return, but Asahi refused with a full-face flush and begged his friend not to go to such lengths "just for me." All the guards cheer in agreement for at least drinks to celebrate, and Asahi cannot refuse his men this. He wears a shy smile the entire night, laughing as people recount stories from the months he was away, and Shoyo sees that he never quite leaves Noya's side. Noya, for once, is quiet. They speak in low tones, and at one point, Shoyo is too close and can hear him speaking filth and flirtations, so he turns to flee second-hand embarrassment. It is just his fortune to rush into the white knight, scowling above Shoyo as he bites out the word move. Shoyo wonders if the boy, barely older than Shoy himself, has ever enjoyed anything at all, but he never seeks the answer, because he's suddenly caught by the arm.

"Asahi, we have forgotten two important additions to court!" Ryuu grins, and the cup of wine in his hand tips a bit, splashing strongwine to the floor. Every man is drinkins like mad, and Shoyo himself has imbibed a bit too much for such introductions.

"This is Shoyo Hinata, a wildling from beyond the Wall. He's training to be a guard, perhaps even a knight one day soon." The lieutenant beams at him, and Shoyo doesn't have the heart to correct him. He never once lived beyond the Wall, but always on it, below it in Castle Black. He fears the wine will make him too talkative of the past, so he just shakes Asahi's strong hand and smiles.

"I thought wildlings had no family name." He says, and Shoyo mutters a response.

"My father wasn't a wildling, it is his name I take." The captain leaves this at that, and only nods. Drunk as they all are, Daichi's eyes are watchful, and he knows. However, Ryuu's already jabbing Koushi gently to get the princeling near. Koushi touches Tobio's arm with a sweet grin and leads him to where Asahi and Daichi stand. Shoyo wants to disappear amongst the crowd, but Ryuu's arm around his shoulders prevents this.

"Asahi, this is his grace, prince Tobio. He is our ward here at Sunspear, and his knight here is ser Yutaro of the Kingsguard." Koushi's grace beckons a proper response, and, for the rumors about this supposedly savage man, Asahi is almost as graceful when he bows in respect.

"Your Grace, it's a pleasure. I will serve you as I serve Prince Daichi." Shoyo wonders if Asahi is as drunk as everyone else, or if perhaps that goblet in his hand is his first of the night. He envies the guard's sobriety, and feels himself reach for Ryuu's hand for support. Beside Tobio, Yutaro seems to size up Asahi as a fellow warrior. Shoyo wants to tell him to not waste his thoughts, because anyone can tell that Asahi is stronger, and Shoyo would put all his money on Asahi being a better man overall. Tobio carries on a polite, but stiff conversation between himself and Asahi, with Koushi there to ease everything for them both. He catches sight of the knight's hand on the small of Tobio's back and grits his teeth so not to bark out an insult to them both. Shoyo nudges at Ryuu and says,

"Let's drink."

He comes to regret this later, when he, Ryuu, and three other guards are racing to drain their newly filled goblets of fierce strongwine. The alcohol hits him quicker than anything else, and he lurches forward as if to puke. The four around him howl with laughter and joke that wolves cannot handle the southern drinks. Shoyo forces himself to finish the last few sips anyway, tries to force the thought of Yutaro's hand away. It doesn't make sense, but the anger is there nonetheless. When the one person he wishes not to see appears at the table to refill his and the prince's goblets, Shoyo cannot force his remarks to stay down.

"With Asahi here, we shall finally see someone who is a true and honest guard." He focuses on not slurring his words, but his heavier, northern accent sneaks through in harsh consonants and rough tones. The knight turns his head, and Tobio holds tight onto his goblet, begins to drink.

"What did you just say to me?" He hisses, and Shoyo feels a bit bold with all this wine in him.

"I said we'll see someone who actually _deserves_ a white cloak and the title of ser, but unfortunately, _he's_ not the one wearing it."

"Listen here, you damn wildling brat—" Shoyo snaps, recoils and almost lunges for the capitol boy, but Ryuu's hand and another's are digging into his shoulders, threatening him, stopping him before he can even react in violence and rage. Tobio has a hand on Yutaro's shoulder then, and he sets his goblet down, mostly empty now.

"Ser, I fear I've drunk too much. I think I'll retire to my chambers now." Shoyo hears a strangeness in his voice, somewhere between strangled fear about a possible brawl, and an odd enunciation that makes Shoyo think about the little Reach town he used to live in. He normally sounds so perfectly poised, but in this moment, the image of the calm but bitter prince cracks. Shoyo knows he fears something more than a brawl, but doesn't know quite what.

"Don't make a scene." Tobio hisses between teeth, only for Yutaro to hear, but Shoyo listens the same. The knight glares daggers at Shoyo, and he bares his teeth for Yutaro to see. Without another word, Yutaro grabs Tobio by the upper arm, making the younger boy wince just slightly as they turn to leave. Yutaro easily leads them away, scaring anyone away form his path with a harsh word. Tobio glances back once at Shoyo before following Yutaro without complaint; Shoyo feels himself get sick.

 

The yard buzzes with excitement when the day after his return, Asahi steps back into his position as captain of the guards. Everyone is gathered in the colonnade, chatting eagerly about their captain's return. He is a different man than the one Shoyo knew from the inn. Sword in hand, hair pulled back, he steps into the yard with a confidence that overwhelms everyone witness to it. His voice rings without trying, his stance is strong and sure. Shoyo watches him in awe. He and Tadashi were practicing blocks with a few other trainees to get blood flowing, while Koushi and the princeling practiced their archery. Despite wanting to watch the captain, Shoyo stares at how exact Tobio's arrows are on the target board. It is frightening how quickly he lines up three arrows and how they all fall in a perfect line next to one another. Dead center.

"Shoyo!" Ryuu calls, and he barely misses an overhead attack, stumbles sideways, and shakes off Tadashi's frantic apology. The sandy guard waves him closer, and he jogs up to him and Asahi.

"You know how to fight like a Bravosi?" Asahi asks. Shoyo nods quickly and fights the urge to fidget with his sparring sword. "Would you mind sparring with someone so I could see?" He remembers sparring with Ryuu and then Tadashi a while ago to show Ukai the style, but before that and since then, he hadn't shown it in training. It wasn't as though he was ashamed of his odd technique, but he didn't know what questions it would raise to see a northern boy dancing like a Bravosi. This man is so respected and revered that Shoyo cannot say no.

"Ryuu, would you like to go against him?" Asahi asks, and Ryuu shrugs with an easy grin.

"Ukai had us spar a few weeks ago, it was really fascinating. Maybe a partner would shake things up even more?" Ryuu suggests. The Prince approaches and nudges Asahi with a question of what's going on. When he hears Shoyo will be sparring, he offers himself as an opponent, and Shoyo's blood goes hot. He watched Lord Daichi spar against Ryuu the same day he himself fought Ryuu, and he was so inspired by Daichi's strength. He fears for himself, imagines what going against such an incredible opponent might be like. When they mull the possible partner for him to fight Daichi with, the Prince gets a wicked grin and looks past Shoyo to where the archers stand.

"Prince Tobio would be an interesting match, no?" A heartbeat later, Shoyo's stomach is filled with dread. He want to scream, but Daichi is calling Koushi over with the princeling in tow. He explains in a few words what they'll be doing, and Koushi nods once in agreement before asking Tobio if he'll agree too. Shoyo hears silence, then a hissed "alright." He feels his courage flee him.

Ryuu gives Daichi his training sword so he's equipped with two against the duo of wildling and prince. The crowd cheers as they step into the area of matted sand. All eyes are on them, and Tobio is suddenly too close to Shoyo for him to feel at all okay.

"Do what I say." He grits out under his breath. Before Shoyo can protest, Asahi is calling them to get into position and then, a beat later, begin. He feels like a caged animal, suddenly backed into a corner with nowhere to go. His only option is to fight, and to trust Tobio's command.

He barely hears the first word, barely hears the second. Tobio is beside him, and speaks shortly to direct Shoyo this way or that. Daichi is terrifying, but Shoyo thinks the dornishman isn't even at full power. His commands are whispers, for only Shoyo to hear so Daichi cannot change his moves before Shoyo responds.

Parry, dodge. Duck left, counter quick.

It takes a moment to adjust, but the instant that Shoyo submits and follows Tobio's command, there's a click, like pieces sliding together and gears turning. Quicker and quicker, faster and more efficient as he follows the prince's lead. He sees Daichi's movements more clearly, sees how Tobio's commands are in response to Daichi's attacks. The dornishman furrows his brow, and the pace takes a turn for positively brutal. Shoyo can do nothing but respond as quick to Tobio's commands as possible.

Cut down, block above. Stab. Block. Thrust, dodge.

Their breathing becomes ragged, and his arms ache. Tobio's voice becomes louder, and he can hear the exhaustion creeping into his words. Shoyo stays light on his feet, moves like he's slipping through canals in a city more ancient than this. Words blur to heartbeats, and for only a moment, Shoyo feels at ease.

Daichi sees this flash of comfort in Shoyo and dismantles them entirely. He knocks Shoyo down by landing a blow to the back of his knees, and then Tobio is frozen by a sword at his neck. It's done.

"Damn." Tobio exhales. Shoyo groans in defeat before he feels gentle hands helping him up. He thanks Tadashi with a weak smile, and begins to rub at his knees where he can feel his bones ache. Once his mind clears a hint, he hears the crowd surrounding them applauding in wild excitement. The pride that surges through him at the thought that so many people watched and were thrilled by their match is overwhelming, and he grins wide and weary. He turns to Tobio and sees him wiping at his face with the back of his hand, breath coming in short pants.

"Where did you learn all that? It was absolutely incredible." Shoyo blurts out, and the prince turns to look at him in shock. Maybe embarrassment even. Shoyo still feels the adrenaline in his veins, still remembers the perfect timing of their movements as if they were one body under Tobio's control.

"… I wanted to be a knight when I was young." His face softens just barely before the familiar clink of white armor signals Yutaro's approach.

"It helps that you trained with the finest knights of the seven kingdoms. Ser Hajime and the King were an incredible pair to watch train. His Grace learned from the best." Despite the would-be compliment, Tobio reacts so poorly. His face twists in annoyance, and his grip tightens on the training blade. Every word drips with pure loathing. The polite address is sarcastic and rude.

"Show him some respect." Shoyo bites out, and it feels like that night all over again. Too much adrenaline today instead of too much wine, but the consequences are just the same. He feels an animalistic urge to tear at Yutaro and fight him tooth and nail to keep away from Tobio. He is no guard, he is not sworn to any man's life, but he remembers a boy of fourteen years who took his hand and led him through secret passes with a quiet grin. A boy with honest blue eyes that marveled in the skulls of dragons kept in crypts far below the keep. The beasts watched them both, just two bastards of little important who found one another in the heart of the capital. Just two boys, but those boys are gone.

Tobio commands Yutaro to leave before the two can fight again. The knight storms away, and Tobio stays for a moment before brushing past Shoyo to return to Koushi's side in silence.

 

Yutaro stops frequenting the yard to watch Tobio as the days go by. He walks the prince to and from, but otherwise, disappears for the hour or so that the knights train. Shoyo watches as Tobio relaxes more and more without the whitecloak looming above him. The guards seem to pick up pace in training with their captain home again, and Shoyo feels all the pieces line up. As if by accident, he becomes friends with Tobio.

It starts with just a short exchange about how Tobio knew how to command Shoyo, and he explains how he watched Shoyo the day he fought against Ryuu and Tadashi. Water dancing is different from typical techniques, but it can be broken down and understood just the same, he says. Shoyo sees a hint of a smile for the first time ever when he responds about how amazing it is that Tobio could see all that from only two sparring matches. When Shoyo is trying and failing at archery, Tobio snickers which is a step above a smile. He shows Shoyo the proper way to nock an arrow and how to hit the target dead-on. It doesn't hit center, but it hits the board, so that's an improvement, Shoyo thinks.

Conversation about sparring and swordsmanship turns into conversations about themselves. Slowly, he learns more and more and, in return, he lets Tobio know more about himself as well. He figures out subjects that the prince refuses to speak of. He figures out that Tobio will talk about his father more than his brother. He'll talk about the knights training, talks about court in King's Landing or things that aren't too personal. Shoyo does the same. He speaks of the bravos with their thin blades and dancing feet. He speaks of the cold winters up north and the beautiful hills of the Vale. They both slowly learn what's acceptable to ask and what's not. Little pokes and prods, testing to see how the other will react, if they'll react at all.

One day before breakfast, he finds Tobio tucked in the nook of a window with a book cracked open in the early light. Shoyo's barely regaining his breath after his morning run, and sits with him, uninvited but not refused. He asks Tobio where his guard is, and the prince shrugs.

"Sending a letter home, I think." His voice is groggy with sleep, and it sounds off. It reminds Shoyo of living just outside Ashford where the men of the country would slur some letters and emphasize others. It sounds nothing like the otherwise posh boy he knows.

"To the King?" He asks curiously. Tobio has only spoken of his brother once. A comment about how brilliant he was. It was the only time he'd ever heard Tobio say the name _Tooru_ except for when they were kids. The tone was so much more reverent and adoring back then, now it is bitter and bristling with hurt.

"Whether it was a political debate, a sparring match, or a game of cyvasse, Tooru always won." He had said, and they left their conversation at that. Now, he just shakes his head and stares at his book.

"To the Lord Hand." Shoyo watches the way Tobio seems to shut himself off and notes that this is one of those unacceptable subjects.

He sees Tobio more often outside of training. One night, he is speaking with Koushi when it's time for supper, and he gets invited to dine with him and the prince. He thinks perhaps it will be more difficult to converse because of a third person there, but Tobio is far more at ease with the lord from Starfall than he is anywhere else. Koushi knows the subjects to avoid already, never once mentions the King nor the Lord Hand, and Shoyo finds himself talking more easily about things he once held back. He still never mentions his family. Not yet, he thinks. But they can know other things. It happens by accident that he becomes friends with Tobio, and it happens by accident that Tobio learns about his sister.

He wakes in a frenzy, clawing at sheets and fighting the taste of flesh in his mouth, coughing up nothingness to get rid of the taste. Raw rabbit and blood, fangs tearing and spilling life onto the sand. He doesn't bother with putting his shoes on, just rushes to the servants' quarters and to the children's rooms. He carefully opens the door to where his sister and two others sleep. He can't tell how late it is, but he knows almost no one else is awake except a handful of servants tending to torches and the guards who pace the halls in silence. Without waking her, Shoyo gathers her into his arms. She instinctively wraps her arms around his neck and settles against him with a soft snore. His heart is racing like mad, and only her quieter, slower heartbeat can calm him. The moon is waning once more, so it's a hint darker in the gardens as he paces endlessly. His feet scratch along gravel and sand, but the only thought running through his mind is Natsu's gentle heartbeat and how she's safe here in his arms. They're both safe. He dreamt of a coyote, but now he's here. She's here. They're safe.

"Shoyo?" A voice calls cautiously, so not to alarm him. He sinks just slightly into a crouch, as if he's about to run. The feeling of fur and blood and death still lingers in his mouth. Tobio watches him from a distance away, hands raised slightly to show he means no harm.

Shoyo turns and walks away as quickly as he can without jostling the little seven year old awake.

"Was that your sister?" Tobio asks when he catches Shoyo returning from his morning run. He must see the way Shoyo instantly looks ready for a fight, because he goes on to explain.

"I grew up in an orphanage. I know what it looks like when siblings are all alone, Shoyo. ... I've seen a brother carry his little sibling the way you did, like she's the only thing you've got left." Tobio's voice is softer than usual. That same thicker, country accent that he's only ever heard in these early mornings or that night Asahi returned and they were all too drunk to hide themselves well. It's from the orphanage, Shoyo realizes. It's from that little town he must've lived in before the late King came to collect him and call him his son.

"In that orphanage, siblings were all we had left from our families. … It's good you have someone and that you hold onto her like that." He looks at Shoyo with such an honest gaze that it stuns him for a moment. He has only let the Prince, Princess, and Maester know of her existence here. All that defensiveness disappears for half a heartbeat, and he says quietly,

"Her name is Natsu."

 

Shoyo is called upon not by a page, but by the Princess herself. He sits straight up in bed and apologizes for the messy state of his room. She laughs sweetly and makes a comment about her husband's chambers. If they're clean for even one day of the month, it's a miracle, she says. Her laughter makes him ever more conscious of himself, while at the same time putting him at ease. Even without a child of her own blood, Yui isa wonderful mother. She takes care of the Prince's bastard as well as Shoyo's own little sister. Natsu's adoring words echo in Shoyo's head as they walk from the barracks to the Prince's solar. She pats his shoulder gently before telling him to go ahead inside.

The first and only time Shoyo had ever seen Prince Daichi's study was during his first week at Sunspear. He had knelt before Prince and Princess in an empty throne room to ask permission to stay at their castle and serve. Daichi summoned him to his solar, and there, Shoyo pleaded his case. Instead of hold her like he always did, he had to set Natsu down on her own two feet, told her to bow as well as he spoke. Her hands had shook by her sides. Shoyo promised her she would never have to kneel. No free folk would kneel before a lord south of the wall, he told her, and she asked why he knelt, why did the wildlings kneel at the end of the war.

" _Why did the Small Giant kneel?_ " She asked him in a quiet voice, the voice of a girl who didn't understand. Shoyo had petted her hair and murmured the kindest explanation he could in their native tongue. The Small Giant knelt because he needed to. It was either surrender or die, and he chose life. Too many of the free folk had been slaughtered by the Kingdoms's soldiers. He chose to end the fifteen year bloodshed with his surrender to the Lord of the North. He had no war to offer his life to, but Shoyo would kneel for the both of them, swear his sword and his blood if need be. Anything to find them safety for just a short while. Anything to keep her alive.

Standing in the doorway of the Prince's solar, Shoyo watches him remove the crown of suns from his brow. He beckons Shoyo closer, invited him to take a seat. The room smells of faint frankincense, and Daichi's voice is steady but grave.

"Shoyo, when you came to Sunspear, you said you needed shelter for only a month, maybe two. It's been more than three." Having heard this, Shoyo tenses up immediately and tries to speak. Daichi leans forward a hint and reaches to cover Shoyo's hand with his own. He remembers these grave eyes, dark with intent and somber thoughts.

"Don't panic; I'm not telling you to leave."

"What else could it be?" Shoyo stutters, and the Prince seems to relax just barely. He gives Shoyo's hand an assuring squeeze before he takes his hand back.

"The opposite. I'm asking you to stay." He says and begins to smile. "The court adores you. Yui and Koushi have grown fond of you. Ryuu only stops talking about my brother to talk about you. Nishinoya has said they wish for you to stay, and even Asahi, who has known you for only a handful of days, is impressed and wants to teach you more." When Daichi sees Shoyo start to ease into his chair a bit more, he continues. "Tadashi calls you his friend, and even Kei is beginning to think the same."

"Kei hates me." Shoyo mutters, and Daichi shakes his head.

"If he hated you, you would know. You're the new kid, he thinks he has to torment you a little." Shoyo begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt. When he tries to speak, he grips the fabric so tight his knuckles ache. Daichi's words are kind, but there's more to account for than these month-old friendships.

"I can't stay here, m'lord." He grits out. Daichi cups his cheek and raises his head. He wonders if this is what Tobio felt like when Shoyo found him in that quiet passageway years ago. Two bastard boys. The northern boy coaxing the southerner to raise his head and eventually even getting the royal to smile. Tobio hasn't seen half of the things Shoyo has, he thinks bitterly, yet the thought remains of how they clasped their hands tightly together as they delved deeper into the secrets of the Keep.

"Is it because of Tobio?" His voice isn't but a whisper. "You said your gods sent you here. They sent you to Dorne to chase your fate, and only week after you arrive, Tobio arrives too. Is that not an act of god? Is that not fateful enough for you?" Shoyo wishes his gods were here to guide him now. The wilting weirwood here among the sands and sun is nothing like the bloom of blood red against stark white snow. He wonders where the gods are now.

Daichi pauses.

"Don't answer yet whether you'll stay or not. You need to hear something first." He runs his thumb once over Shoyo's cheek before standing and walking back over to the doors. Shoyo hears the doors open, and then a request for someone else to join them.

Daichi tells Shoyo to stand, and when he turns, Tobio is watching him.

"Excuse the frankness, but I need to ask you something, Tobio." Daichi says. He doesn't whisper anymore. He's the Prince again, he is the sun, and Shoyo remembers his place as a wildling boy. Tobio shifts beside him, folds his hands nervously in front of himself and allows Daichi to go on.

"Do you want the Iron Throne?" The silence that follows is deafening. The air leaves both of their lungs as they watch Daichi in shock. "Are you willing to stake your claim and go against the crowned King, your brother Tooru?" Shoyo glances left, and sees that after a long moment, waiting on bated breath, Tobio nods once. _Yes_.

Daichi grins.

Shoyo decides to stay.

 

"We sail north." Daichi declares before the inner court. He stands only on the second step of the dais so that he can see, but not so that he stands so far above. Shoyo stands beside Tobio. The whitecloak is nowhere to be seen. A man with hair like Ryuu stands in long robes; he is the envoy sent on the lord's behalf and watches Daichi calmly. Kei and Tadashi stand nearby, but neither looks at them until the Prince speaks. Tadashi's worry is kind, but Shoyo knows it won't help now.

Koushi gets a wicked sort of smile when his lover speaks, and Shoyo's never seen it before. He wonders if this all started with him.

"In one week's time, we sail to Gulltown, and from there, we ride to the Eyrie. There, at the court of the Vale, we will begin an alliance with my cousin Lord Kuroo to seat his Grace Tobio upon his rightful throne." The smirk that Daichi wears is one of confidence and schemes. The court murmurs in surprise.

"We travel under the guise of visiting distant relatives and bettering relations with the Vale, but in truth, this is the first step in fighting for the King's crown." The room feels on fire. It's not the Dornish heat, but the Dornishmen's sudden fervor. Everyone looks at one another, looks at Tobio where he stands silent and tall, head held high like the would-be king. Shoyo stands tall too.

"Prince Tobio will be accompanied by his guard Shoyo who knows the Vale from living there a few years ago. Asahi will lead the guards following us, and Ukai will be in charge of the remaining half here in Dorne. Asahi will be by my side, and Ryuu will be assuring the safety of the other lords. That being said, only the Lady Kiyoko and my Lord Koushi will voyage north with us, while Princess Yui and my brother Chikara will remain at Sunspear so not to arouse suspicion." Shoyo sees Ryuu turn to the second Prince suddenly. He hears a question, demanding to know if Chikara knew about this all. The second sun quiets him with a single word. Asahi and Noya both exchange glances and hold each other's hands as they listen to the declaration. Daichi pauses a moment, and then his voice booms.

"One week and we sail. Let us strike this bargain with the Valemen. _Let us get the Iron Throne_." The court cheers, booms and roars with excitement for their Prince's words. Daichi grins proudly as he descends to where Tobio and Shoyo both stand.

"The Vale Lord is a madman." Tobio utters as Daichi nears. He laughs at this worry, and takes Tobio's face in his hands.

"A madman who will get you your crown." He murmurs, and only Tobio and Shoyo hear among the cheering. Daichi presses a kiss to Tobio's cheek in congratulations or perhaps to wish good luck. Shoyo looks up at the princeling as Daichi walks away to pull Nishinoya aside. Among the shouts, they both watch each other and wonder what is to come in just one week's time.


	5. the mountain & moon's Keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... y'all. i ain't even gonna lie. this chapter got out. of fucking. hand. i said iwaizumi's chapter was the heaviest, darkest? i lied. have chapter five. get ready to cry about nekoma. 
> 
> pairs: kuro/ken, ken/hina. yama/fuku. kuro/tsukki, bit of yaku/lev, dai/enn.
> 
> tw: UH. imagine any trigger, and it's ... here. kinda. sorry uh. mention of murder, brawling. drunkenness. almost-sexual assault. lots of darkness in this chapter ok. implications of incest. three smut scenes, the last being the most explicit. be warned, this is a very, very intense chapter. lots of mystery ohohoo
> 
> btw it's 23k. sorry. i said it got out of hand. i meant that.

Screaming white noise like discordant steel. The flood of rage that overwhelms the senses. A tall figure cloaked in blood and thorns and fury who screams. A second figure shackled by curses with cut skin. Blood, so much terrible black blood pooling around them both until they're surrounded by blackness. The taller tears at the other with hands like claws, spilling more shadows and screams that shake the world around them.

A crown tumbles down. A frightened boy of only twelve years with big blue eyes stares at the gold in his hands. He's seventeen now, and hands dripping in river water come creeping from the dark to wind their way around his neck. White noise. The sound of steel and screams. Blood on burnt ground.

The crown shatters.

He is yanked away into the dark.

"— … — …" Someone mumbles a word against his skin. He feels the familiar hand on his shoulder jostling him awake.

"Kenma? Kenma, my love?" Bleary-eyed, Kenma blinks himself awake and looks up at Tetsurou.

"The banished comes north." He murmurs, and Tetsurou understands.

Kenma feels the sweat sticking to his skin from twisting and turning as he dreamt of the crown. He shifts uncomfortably and pushes himself up onto his elbows as Tetsuro’s hand rubs his shoulder soothingly. His body aches from nightmares, still haunted by the sick feeling. His lord saw how pale he had become, and with a nod from Kenma, Tetsuro moves his hand from Kenma’s shoulder to his chest. He leans forward and catches Kenma’s lips, open and soft, expecting Tetsuro’s kiss.

Kenma closes his eyes as Tetsuro cups his chest and deepens the kiss. He moans quietly against the other’s lips when the kiss breaks, and he begs for more. He can feel Tetsuro’s smile against his neck, but knows the marks he leaves will be covered later by high collared robes. Tetsuro moves to throw back the sheets further from where Kenma had kicked them half off in his sleep. He slowly pushes Kenma’s nightgown up to expose his paler legs and scraping his nails teasingly along his soft thighs. Kenma shudders at the sudden chill, but more so at the feeling of strong hands pushing his thighs apart with practiced ease. He leans his head back when his lord begins to nip at his jawline and kiss his collarbone. They know one another, he knows what to expect from the elder, knows the feeling of his calloused hands on smooth skin. He bites lightly on his lip and exhales,

“Please.” Within a breath, he feels Tetsuro’s hand against his sex. He grabs the sheets tightly beneath his hands for support as Tetsuro begins to touch him slowly, sweetly. His skin is slick with sweat, voice thick with need. He pushes against Tetsuro’s hand, hips grinding up and whining quietly. He hears his own name from Tetsuro’s lips as he kisses Kenma’s neck and nuzzles against his damp, blonde hair with a groan. Arching his back, Kenma presses closer to his lord and the pleasure he gives. He feels two fingers enter him at once, slowly pushing deeper as Kenma stutters a delighted cry.

“My love…” Tetsuro groans low in his ear. He undoubtedly feels Kenma tightening around his hand as he works Kenma quicker and quicker. His body quivers under Tetsuro, shakes as he feels his climax edging closer with each drag of Tetsuro’s fingers inside, the press of his thumb against Kenma coaxing moans and cries out of him before Tetsuro kisses them all away hungrily. His arms threaten to give way and let him collapse. He meets the motions of Tetsuro’s hand eagerly, hips moving to beg more and more and more from the other, desperate for release. He gasps, sharp and sudden when he feels his peak hit. He keens and cries out loudly as Tetsuro works him through his climax. He closes his legs tightly to try to keep the heat of Tetsuro’s fingers inside his sex, and a sob escapes him. The lord kisses him, and Kenma responds, messy and weak as the need leaves him in beads of sweat against his skin and wetness between his legs slicking Tetsuro’s fingers. When he rests his weight back on his elbows, Tetsuro smirks coolly at him as he twists his tongue around his fingers, licking them as Kenma watches and regains his breath.

“Better?” He asks, and Kenma hums in agreement, letting a quiet smile echo his lord’s smirk. Slowly, he lets Tetsuro pester him into rising from the bed and casting away his dirtied nightgown. He shivers in the cold, but the other is quick to briefly wash his skin and clean better between his legs where instead of heavy, Kenma just feels sort of sticky and uncomfortable. He dresses then, smallclothes then breeches then a light tunic under the heavier robes. He recounts the dream in a quiet voice as Tetsuro fusses with the clasps and straightens everything out so he doesn't look quite such a mess.

"That was the reading of the will." He says, causing Kenma to look up suddenly mid-sentence. "It wasn't a prediction this time, but a retelling. The man with thorns is King Tooru, and the boy with blue eyes is the bastard." He pushes Kenma's hair behind his ears, but the short half-blonde strands fall along the sides of his face anyway. Kenma frowns a bit, wishing for more information but gets only a brief kiss as his reply.

"Later, love. We have preparations for now. The Dornish are only days away."

.  
  
Besides his own apartments there, separate from the chambers he and Tetsuro share in the northern Moon Tower, the eastern Maiden Tower is unused, and they decide to host the Dornish nobles there for their stay. Tetsuro made a joke about housing them in the sky cells, but only Yamamoto seemed to laugh. Said party had ridden to Gulltown with their sealord days earlier to greet the Dornish at Yaku's seaside home. Kai rode with them because he had finalized the visit in person when he visited Sunspear two or three weeks past. The castle feels empty with Yaku's shouting or Yamamoto's loud laughter, but Kenma keeps himself busy with tasking servants to do this or that, to ensure the stores of firewood and food. It is enough to keep a castle of Valemen warm who are accustomed to the chilling spring days and harsh mountain winds, but the Dornish are sure to need more attending to than they. Shouhei trails beside him with a smile and reminds him with a quiet nudge and a finger towards their list about what next to do.

By the time dinner time arrives, Kenma and Shouhei both collapse into their seats with a loud groan. They dine quietly, as the two friends do most things without Yamamoto there to shout Shouhei's jokes and then laugh immediately after. It is an easy quiet, and Kenma finds himself dozing off before the main course arrives. His head weighs heavy in the palm of his hand, and only Shouhei's gentle shaking wakes him from the daze. He whispers an apology as a servant brings the capon to the table. Shouhei motions with his hands a question about Kenma's little five-minute nap, and the blonde cannot help but smile.

"I dreamt of sunflowers and sweet smelling snow." He says, and Shouhei smiles too.

In the morning, Kenma searches for the young knights in the great courtyard. The snow has finally melted off all the branches, and little hints of spring bloom forth from the yellowed earth causing patches of green to decorate the yard as the two knights train. Technically, only Sou has been knighted, but the lanky Lysene boy so often calls himself a ser that Kenma forgets otherwise.

"Kenma!" The boy cries out, and the duo from Wickenden both call out Lord Kenma to correct him. Within seconds it seems, he strides across the yard or maybe leaps, Kenma doesn't quite see, but then he's looming above him with a wide grin. Kenma takes a step back so he doesn't have to crane his neck to look at him and warns,

"Lev—"

"Is Lord Kuroo going to knight me before the Dornish arrive? How great would it be if he did that? Won't he finally knight me?" Lev blurts out, and Kenma can hear Shouhei behind him snickering at them both. Sou and Yuuki approach better, with the brief but polite bow, and thankfully neither shouts either. Kenma misses their sealord more; he always controlled Lev better than Kenma could.

"Absolutely not." He says dryly, and the reaction is instantaneous.

"Why not?" The boy whines over the others' laughter. It seems with any little event, Lev comes bounding up to Kenma or Yaku or Kai to ask will their liege lord knight him now. He even has the audacity to approach Tetsuro himself on occasion. Blessedly, he seems to realize the stress that the Dornish visit is causing and hasn't asked anyone but Kenma.

"Because." He answers shortly, and Lev cries out again. Kenma wonders how far away Gulltown is from here.

"He knighted Sou last winter on his nameday, which was only one day after my own. Why knight Sou but not me?" Kenma begins to walk back towards Shouhei, forgetting his original task for the Lysene boy. He feels a headache coming on and sends the mute a pleading glance.

"I'm a year older than you, Lev. A year more practiced and more capable of defending our home!" Sou says bravely, turning Lev's attentions to himself instead of the little blonde.

"I'll become a ser one day, just you wait!" Lev declares as he does always, and Kenma hears the other Valemen laugh fondly. Before they escape, Shouhei forces Kenma to ask of Lev what he originally intended, and by phrasing it as an important task, Lev eagerly accepts. Mostly, Tetsuro had been desperate to get rid of the boy for a few days so he didn't embarrass them in front of his cousin. Lev had been going stir-crazy without Captain Yaku to control him or for Lev to harass and chase with his affections. When the sealord returned to the Eyrie, he would certainly be bombarded in greeting, and that was a nightmare of a possibility when dealing with diplomacy and the South.

.  
  
A rider informs them that the Dornish party is only a day away, and when Tetsuro closes the door to his solar, Kenma sees his hands shaking. He focuses on the final arrangements so Tetsuro doesn't have to.

.  
  
At midday, Kenma stands on his balcony watching the Dornish banners waving as they climb the Lance higher and higher to their castle. Bold hues of orange and red and gold dance in the distance causing a nauseous, nervous feeling in Kenma's gut. He twists his moonstone ring on his left hand twice and then thrice over as is his worrisome habit. The last time such esteemed guests had visited in such numbers was when the Lords Declarant — Lords Defiant, Yaku had spat — marched to the Eyrie three years past. This is far from that situation, he knows, but the nerve still gnaws at him and gnaws at Tetsuro too. An alliance with Dorne to support the bastard boy's claim to the throne. When Tetsuro first read the letter from his cousin, he had laughed. Full body, breathless laughter because of how ridiculous the request was. Tetsuro had recounted the story of Daichi arguing for the princeling at the capital months ago. The Dornish were peculiar and held no ill-will toward bastards like many other kingdoms. The Vale considered natural born children to be disgraces, shames to be hidden away. Dorne celebrated bastards, talked of passion and true love instead of the truth. Bastards were just mistakes born in the heat of the moment or in moments of stupidity, infidelity. The Vale laughed at the bastard prince, and now they found themselves welcoming the Prince's traveling party within the hour.

It was curiosity, Tetsuro had said. A morbid curiosity to know his cousin better and to understand why he would dare support such a stupid claim. It was legitimate, he explained. The will read the boy's name, not his trueborn brother, but the fact remained that no one wanted him on the throne. It's an upward battle, Tetsuro had said. And for some reason, they had decided to see where it lead.

Just as Kenma comes padding back into the main chambers, Tetsuro snaps at the cats. They keep twisting themselves around his legs and nuzzling against him as he tries to dress himself, and so he barks a command for them to leave. The black cat slinks away quickly, having heard her master's frustration loud and clear. The white cat hesitates as he passes Kenma, nudges Kenma's hand as if to warn him about the lord's temper today. It's the Dornish blood in him, Yaku jokes on occasion. A Dornish grandmother made him a quarter Dornish and second cousin to the Lord Sawamura.

"He's out of his mind." Tetsuro says to the air as he fixes the cuffs of his gown. Kenma shucks off his gray tunic from the morning and, feeling Tetsuro's eyes on him, shudders in the midst of searching for his finer robes. He pulls the black tunic of fine cotton over his head and yanks it over his bare chest and stomach. Tetsuro continues to ramble about his cousin.

"He is absolutely mad, and now he's in our home." He speaks through gritted teeth, and Kenma twists his way into the long, black, formal gown that brushes the top of his feet. Silver highlights decorate the lining and draw subtle and elegant designs in darker grey. He doesn't argue with Tetsuro as he affixes Kenma's silver-white cloak upon his shoulders with a sturdier, more hurried hand. He straightens the clasp, a crescent moon square in the center of Kenma's chest, and nods to himself. Kenma idly runs his hand over Tetsuro's own sigil of the Vale in the center of his chest. His gown looks more like armor with how tall the lord stands, how instead of silver, gold accents his robes and gold-black is his cloak. They are not the colors of their families, but they are their best robes and make Tetsuro look like a most fiercesome lord. The sight of him is striking indeed.

Kenma pulls his hand back and fidgets with his hair a bit before Tetsuro catches his hand with one, and fixes the mess of hair with another.

"It's time." He breathes. Tetsuro nods with a hum. Twining their fingers together for a brief moment of intimate assurances, he presses his lips to Kenma's ring, and then they make their way to the High Hall to greet their guests.

.  
  
The High Hall is pale and cold, and Kenma climbs the dozens of steps winding to the dais with practiced ease. He holds his gown so he doesn't trip, and watches the cats bound ahead of them both and begin to prowl around the throne. The Dornish were in the Crescent Chamber at this point, hopefully being agreeable and surrendering their blades as is custom. They mulled greeting the Dornish there with bread and salt as is custom, but Tetsuro said to offer them these in the High Hall. Watching Tetsuro climb the stairs, sword in hand, Kenma knows what he plans instead. There is no familial love between these two lords, and as much as Daichi undoubtedly distrust Tetsuro, the same goes from Tetsuro's view.

Kenma doesn't sit; he stands, attentive and watching as the Valemen gather and take their positions along the walls and at certain benches and seats. The guards are ready, the court abuzz with anticipation. Kenma looks down at Shouhei who stands in Kenma's perfect view. They nod to one another and wait. Tetsuro murmurs to the cats to lay down, and they take their places on either side of the grand weirwood throne. Kenma hears him inhale, and then.

The heavy oak doors far below open with a groan;

Tetsuro lays the sword across his lap as the Prince is announced.

"Presenting Daichi Sawamura, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne, and his men from the south." Yaku and Kai walk in front of the Dornish party, cloaks blowing past as the winds in the High Hall rush past. Kenma knows Tetsuro is staring dead center at the Prince.

Daichi is not the madman Kenma expected. He is handsome with his salty Dornish skin and dark black hair. His eyes are piercing and command every man's gaze as he and Tetsuro size each other up. He wears the crown of golden suns, and Kenma thinks that he is a Prince indeed.

Daichi isn't his focus, however. Kenma looks beyond him to the other lords and ladies with whom Daichi arrived. A giant of impressive physique. He stands taller than the rest, confident and strong. He is the Captain of the Guard, Kenma judges. A woman of black hair and black clothes with bones as bracelets. A woman, the lady of Kingsgrave who is rumored to be able to fight better than the Prince himself. A beauty of silver hair and purple robes. The heir of Starfall and paramour of the Prince. He walks just far enough behind Daichi to walk side by side with a tall, dark-eyed youth. Kenma's chest tightens at the sight. It is the banished boy. Tobio. He stalks behind Daichi in robes of black and blue. It is not the green and blue of his father's house, but a dirtier, bastard's attempt to claim some identity of his own. Kenma sees his hands nervously balled into fists at his side. One touch of the paramour's hand seems to calm him in some way.

The Dornish begin to pool at the bottom of the Hall behind their lord. Kenma searches the crowd for more.

A guard who seems to fidget without his blade. He lingers close to the man of Starfall, and just beyond them both is a boy with messy black hair streaked gold partway through. He moves like a shadow, and Kenma almost misses him among the crowd. Another tall youth, blonde of hair and with beige robes and a distasteful look. He folds his hands in front of him, and Kenma sees how he leans closer to a freckled boy than anyone else. He seems to glance around the Hall, but his motions are strange and they make Kenma uncomfortable for half a heartbeat til he looks to Shouhei again.

The mute now stands side by side with Yamamoto, hands twined together tight after so many days apart. Yamamoto looks tense, and Kenma sees a similar emotion echoed in Shouhei's face. He glances once at Kenma before jutting his chin just barely towards the Dornish group. Kenma follows his gaze, and looks to the shadow-like figure again. Whoever he is, Kenma sees that he's caused a feeling of unease in Shouhei. There's no one Kenma trusts more to judge threats than a witch.

Kenma inhales, and watches how the short Dornishman fits among the group. He sees him look at the Captain, sees him evaluate everyone in the room with strange gold eyes. He looks straight at Kenma and then at Shouhei within the same breath.

Kenma has to settle for just making a mental note about this man because he feels the mood shift from wary welcome to a sudden tension.

The Prince has seen the sword across the Vale lord's lap.

Tetsuro is denying them the sacred guest right.

Daichi reaches, on instinct Kenma thinks, to wear his sword would be. As custom dictates, they surrendered their weapons just moments ago. Moments ago, they thought they would be given safety in the hall of another liege lord. They thought wrong.

Watching him from where he stands beside the throne, Kenma sees the grin spread wide and delightful across Tetsuro's face. Daichi's face reads momentarily panicked, then he steels himself and weighs the outcomes of what could be. Kenma's eyes are drawn to the woman with bone bracelets. She is too close to the bastard boy for propriety. She has a dangerous look in her eyes, one mirrored by the boy with streaked gold hair. Kenma realizes they're both still armed somewhere under their robes. The woman of Kingsgrave must have been told to prepare. Daichi must have considered this option at least somewhat for her to react so smoothly, gliding a step closer as the tensions rise.

The guards posted around the room all straighten as Tetsuro's fingers begin trailing against the blade in an almost absent-minded fashion. One hand grips the hilt surely, ready to declare the Dornish unwelcome at any second. He waits for Kenma to decide.

Kenma looks to Shouhei once more, just once more before he decides what to do. Shouhei has a strange expression now, looking past the short Dornishman to the princeling himself. He makes a motion, small and only a gesture Kenma could understand. It piques his curiosity enough to forgive the woman's weapons and the strange shadow-like man.

He nods just once, enough for Tetsuro to see and for the guards to echo. One nod versus a step away.

The Dornish are safe. For now.

Tetsuro's grin only grows as he stands and sheathes his blade. He beckons wide with one hand and laughs,

"Welcome, my lords and ladies, to the court of the Vale. It is my absolute pleasure to have you here." He says, and Kenma wonders if he's trying to sneer. The cats rise with him, and Kenma's pet swings his tail in wonderment at the people far below.

Tetsuro offers him a hand as they go to descend the dais and greet the Prince in a more personal way. Kenma watches the room relax and a quiet mutter rises in the background. Yamamoto leans close to Shouhei to whisper something, and only gets a frown and head shake in return. He wonders if Yamamoto noticed what they both felt as well. The woman moves back to her normal place beside the bastard, relaxing only enough to not raise suspicions about her arms. Kenma hears Tetsuro's cat snarl low and quiet behind them, and Kenma hopes he doesn't lunge at the mysterious boy who so alarmed Shouhei and him both.

"Lord Daichi, how wonderful to see you again. We barely spoke at the King's coronation months ago." Tetsuro says as he's just steps away from the Prince. Kenma watches the banished boy flinch. The Dornish have lined more properly so that Tetsuro may greet them as Daichi introduces them all. The white-haired cat nudges at Kenma's shoulder, and he turns once to quiet it with a gesture and tell it to sit. The beast stands at the height of Kenma's shoulder, and his feline eyes watch the southerners with intrigue. His packmate lingers to Tetsuro's left, pads in front of the Dornish lines as if assuring herself that Kenma's judgment was sound.

He hears a soft noise of surprise, then the banished prince scowls and is forced aside a bit so a bright-haired boy can peek through at the creatures behind Tetsuro and Kenma. Shadowcats, he hears the word whispered so reverently and then, by gods, Kenma recognizes the boy.

Sunflowers and sweet smelling snow. It was true.

"Shoyo—" The name slips out before he can think. Tetsuro's hand reaches on instinct for Kenma's, but he has stepped forward without realizing. Shoyo's head turns, and the grin that blooms on his face is no different than two years past. Kenma's heart soars, and for the first time all day, he smiles.

"Kenma!" He exclaims, and the name sounds so perfect on his tongue. He moves past Tobio entirely, moves past the Prince himself without any hesitation at all to meet Kenma. His heart catches in his throat as Shoyo takes his hands in his. They are warm and calloused, but kind like he remembers. Snow and flowers. This is the boy he loved.

When Shoyo presses a soft kiss to his cheek, he feels his face heat up, and a shy smile blooms.

"Does your sister fare well?" He asks to distract himself. When Shoyo glances behind him at the other Dornish, Kenma sees a look of surprise on their faces that tells no one except the stone-faced Prince himself knew of this other wildling. It's then that Kenma remembers they were in the middle of two kingdoms meeting for peace and for war. He becomes all too aware of the quiet rumbling in the cats' chests, Tobio watching them so intently, Yaku's hand shifting worriedly to the hilt of his blade. He doesn't need to turn to look and see how mad Tetsuro must be; he sees the fear in Shoyo's eyes and that's enough to tell.

Like hands above hot coals, Kenma lets go of Shoyo as quick as he can and drops his hands back to his side. Shoyo bows his head and quickly backs away. The darker-skinned guard grabs his arm and guides him safely to his side. All eyes are on the two valemen and how Tetsuro will react. To his surprise, Kenma feels his lord's hand gently on the small of his back. It's so gentle that it frightens him, yet Kenma knows the wildling boy is Tetsuro's most hated person in the room at this moment. This will come back to haunt them both, he knows.

"It seems we need one less introduction." The coolness of his voice must unsettle the Prince, but he is just as hard and steady as Tetsuro; he does not flinch at this barely-concealed anger.

"While Shoyo maybe know of your advisor, I had not the pleasure of meeting him at the coronation. He was too sick to travel, if I recall." Daichi responds easily. Most of Kenma's illnesses had been treated years past when Shouhei came to court, but the lie stood to cover the fact that Tetsuro was too wary of the capital to allow Kenma to travel there. There are monsters hiding inside of men in that place, he had said days before he and Kai rode south. Kenma thinks of his dream. Steel and thorns and screams. A shattered crown. There are monsters inside every man, Kenma thinks. It is not only in the capital that darkness hides.

"Then I shall introduce. This is Lord Kenma of the Kozume family, my Keeper of the Gates of the Moon and my most trusted advisor." Kenma accepts the offered hand to shake, but cannot force a smile to mirror the Dornish lord's politeness. Tetsuro continues on to introduce his inner court. Kenma dares to glance at Shoyo, but he is pointedly looking downwards and avoiding all contact.

"You obviously met when he traveled to Dorne weeks past, but this is Ser Kai Nobuyuki, the Knight of the Gate who guards the high road and our Captain of the Guard." He forces himself to watch the introductions. The court will want to know how the Prince judged them, and Kenma must observe. Daichi seems to respect Kai. He had returned from Sunspear in a decent mood, telling of the Prince's stubborn behavior and how he lit a fire in the hearts of his men when he declared they would sail north to strike a deal to get the throne. It is a deal for a war, not simply a throne however. Tetsuro knows better than the rest what danger it is to usurp a throne.

"Morisuke Yaku, Heir of Gulltown and commander of the Vale's naval fleet." Yaku gives Daichi a good handshake, and Kenma sees that the Dornish commander is not present. He falters on the man's name, but he knows the captain was well into his forties, and no one in the Dornish party was that old. Tetsuro shows Daichi to the next lord at court who was one of the only elders remaining of their fathers' regime.

"Yasufumi Nekomata, castellan of the Eyrie and an old friend of your commander Ikkei Ukai, I believe." Nekomata shakes Daichi's hand without paying much mind to his expression, but Kenma catches the way his mouth tenses and draws into Tetsuro's same fake smile. A family trait, or perhaps a habit that lords are taught to keep diplomacy going. Kenma notes that no one else wears the exact sigil of Sunspear meaning the Prince's younger brother remained in Dorne. He wonders if Tetsuro wished for the brother to be here, if only to see his expression at the mention of the elder Ukai.

" _Former_ commander. His grandson, ser Keishin, is our Master at Arms now."

"Keishin?" Daichi and Tetsuro both turn to Nekomata's left where their dark-haired warrior stands. There's a note of recognition in his voice.

"This is Ser Manabu Naoi, the Eyrie's Master at Arms." Ser Manabu offers his hand politely and grins.

"Ser Keishin and I served together during the Northern War. Our troops traveled together to Winterfell to see the Small Giant brought to justice."

"Ah, then it was your troops who saw him escape." No one can tell if the Prince is making a harmless joke or if the jape is cruel indeed. Ten years of wondering if this creature had been killed or still sought his vengeance upon the Seven Kingdoms. If lords were monsters hiding inside of men, then the Small Giant was the monster who was feared by them all. White eyes and a cloak as black as night. Every child heard warning tales, but their Master at Arms had met the monster himself. Kenma can't watch Manabu and Daichi's conversation and longer because he notices Shoyo once more. The bald guard is holding him tighter now, two firm hands on his shoulders as the shorter boy balls his hands into tight fists. How could he forget? Shoyo was of the same wild blood. Anyone who fought in the Northern War fought against his folk, his family.

"Is he here with you, my lord?"

"No, he stayed in Sunspear with our standing guard."

Manabu asks the Prince politely to send his regards, and he agrees if only to avoid more discussion of the war and their former commander. The other Dornish guard murmurs something into Shoyo's ear that seems to force him to relax.

Tetsuro introduces Yamamoto as the lieutenant of the guard, and Shouhei is the maester's understudy. Shouhei's gaze stays on Daichi just a bit too long, and Kenma wonders what secret he sees of the Prince. He tries to find that shadowy figure once more among the Dornish, but he is nowhere to be seen. Surely, his purpose is no different than that of Shouhei. Look for weakness, look for secrets to be exploited when the time is right. It is a miracle if the Dornish accept Yamamoto and Shouhei as "lieutenant and understudy," but those are less sinister titles than pirate and witch. He doesn't bother introducing every man in the room, but it seems the Prince knows now the important members of their court.

When Daichi introduces his men, he leaves out the title of "paramour" for Koushi of Starfall. He makes sure to mention that the Lady Kiyoko is the head of his war council. The title wows some of the Valemen, makes the others fight a mocking grin. A woman in power, how very Dornish. Such a thing is impossible in the Vale. Kenma knows this well. The tall, broad-shouldered man is their Captain of the Guard named Asahi, and his lieutenant is Ryuu, the man who held Shoyo at bay. The blonde with strange motions and the freckled page piques Manabu and Nekomata's interest.

"Tsukishima? We had a lordling of that name in our troop. Akiteru, he was." The boy's face twists in displeasure at the name. Kenma stands up a bit straighter to watch more attentively, especially when Tetsuro's posture changes as well. His dark eyes watch the blonde too closely, and it unsettles Kenma.

"He was also a son of Yronwood. They must be brothers then." Nekomata's eyes wrinkle at the corners when he laughs, easy and knowing. The men don't speak often of the war. Too much horror, too much blood. This heir of Yronwood must be important for them to mention. He is important enough for Daichi to evade though. He cuts short the conversation about Tsukishima with a simple "indeed" and leads Tetsuro to the guest of honor. The bastard prince. To introduce the guest of honor must mean he won't be introducing the rest. Kenma knows no name for the shadowy figure from before.

Daichi gives only "His Grace" as a title for Tobio, perhaps unsure whether to introduce him as the prince or the uncrowned heir or any number of names muttered among common folk and lords alike. It matters not what Daichi says, but how the Vale finds him and how they will judge him to be.

.  
  
"He dreams." Yamamoto says as they gather into Tetsuro's solar to speak. Shouhei had motioned this information to Kenma before, but Yamamoto was dying to say it aloud for the rest to hear. Kai was seeing the Dornish to their chambers in the eastern wing and letting them get settled while they themselves settled some curiosities of their own.

"Greendreams, you mean?" Tetsuro's gaze narrows upon the duo, and Shouhei nods with a hum.

"The King's line traces for centuries of Reach men. A few drops of Storm blood or crownlands or Westerners, but not a drop of the north. That's not possible." He says with a frown. All eyes fall to Kenma who gazes away.

"It must be his mother then. No one in the Seven Kingdoms knows who she is or was. I doubt the boy even knows."  
  
"Those were the rumors of his madness then..." Yaku mutters as he leans against the edge of Tetsuro's desk. A mad bastard boy. Kenma wondered if anyone in the capital ever had the sense to see the dreams for what they were, or if they all simply called it insanity. There were those in the Vale who would say the same things though if only they knew.

"The boy from Yronwood is blind. His page must be his eyes for he looked about the High Hall but did not see." Kenma continues, and Tetsuro makes a noise of acknowledgement before Kenma comments on how it seemed Daichi very much planned for his brother not to be in attendance. He is too protective of his brother, Tetsuro says. He will risk everyone, but not Chikara.

"The lady Kiyoko was armed."

"So was that one who moved like smoke." Yamamoto says as he loops his arm around Shouhei's waist and pulls him in close. The silent one relaxes in the embrace, rests his head against Yamamoto's and breathes easier when he begins to rub circles with his thumb along Shouhei's hip. Kenma wonders what a week feels like for lovers. To be gone from the one who holds your heart, even just for a week. It sounds like hell. He begins to move toward Tetsuro to seek his embrace, but instead folds his arms unconsciously over his chest and turns to walk quietly about the room.

"He never introduced that one, but he makes me uneasy. He greatly alarmed Shouhei when he came into the room."

"That's that shadow. The assassin in the sands." Tetsuro murmurs in realization. Kenma turns to glance at him when he hears an odd note in his tone, but immediately flinches as the taller lord slams a fist against the desk with a swear, rattling the books and tipping an inkwell onto its side. Yaku is the only one who remains unfazed, turning his head to look at their lord. The room is dead quiet as Tetsuro snaps.

"God _damn_ him!" He shouts in anger. Kenma's hands tighten around himself as Tetsuro shoves a stack of books off the desk. They land with heavy thuds. The sound frightens them all. Tetsuro grits his teeth hard and walks to the window to breathe. "How _dare_ he bring such a man into our _home_ , to _my_ court. The fucking _audacity_ of these southerners." He snarls. The cats look ready to pounce, reacting to their lord's temper. Gnawing on the inside of his lip worriedly, Kenma speaks quietly.

"I think—" Tetsuro turns to look at him, and the look in his eyes makes him forget his words. He sees the fear though, and after a moment, eases back to his normal self. He runs a hand through his messy hair and goes to pull Kenma into his arms and murmur an apology for his rage. My love, my love, he whispers against Kenma's hair.

"I think he serves the same purpose as Shouhei. He has magic about him, and he is here to unveil our secrets." Tetsuro's embrace tightens a hint, and Kenma grips his lord in fright.

.  
  
The night passes without incident. Kenma does not dream, and though he is relieved, he also wished for some insight as to what's to come. The two liege lords are so incredibly courteous, and surely it irritates them both to the core. Daichi must tread carefully in a court not his own, and Tetsuro must restrain himself so not to let the Prince catch even a hint of weakness. The bastard prince is another matter entirely. He is shut off and curt, barely polite except when he is speaking to Tetsuro. They didn't know whether the boy was nervous in front of the Valemen or just that way on his own, but the paramour had invited them both to sit and play a game of cyvasse that afternoon.  
  
Alone, Kenma goes down to the great courtyard to sit and read. Kai is chatting with the Dornish captain nearby, and he settles into a peaceful quiet with his book. A nudging at his feet minutes later makes him snap out of his daze and look up at his beast before him. He tells the cat to sit, but he turns around and bounds across the yard to herd someone closer. He has to fight a smile at the sight.

"I think he recognizes me." Shoyo laughs. He fidgets with his hands, unsure whether to reach out to the beast or not. Kenma invites him to sit with him, and that's when the cat calms down.

"Does he have a name? Do they even respond to names? They're not wolves, I know, but you seemed to control them yesterday." He rambles on until Kenma lets out a quiet laugh. They had avoided one another after introductions the day before. Kenma was too nervous to speak to the wildling boy while Tetsuro's temper was so inflamed, and he's sure the wildling boy's instincts told him to stay away.

"They're trained, we don't control them as you might." The cat lays his head on Shoyo's lap and stares up at him. Kenma motions for him to pet the animal's head. When he complies, content purrs follow which cause Shoyo to grin.

"His name is Snow." Snow's opens his eyes just barely as if to say that was indeed his name, but he lolls against Shoyo and continues to purr quietly. He had fur as white as winter and eyes as grey as clouds. He was only a few months, maybe even weeks old, when Shoyo met him first. The wildling looks up in shock at the name.

"Snow?" He repeats, and Kenma hums yes. It was no extraordinary name, and it made sense with the color of his coat. But Kenma had named him after Shoyo. A wild boy with wide smiles and warm hands who found the kitten wandering Gulltown when Kenma had lost him. Snow, for the boy with an armful of sunflowers and a sweet kiss.

"What, um. What about the other one?" Threading his hands through Snow's fur, Kenma scoffs a sort of laugh.

"She's Tetsuro's. Her name is Light." Shoyo tilts his head.

"But her fur is black and grey."

"It's short for Little Night. Tetsuro thought it was a clever name." Snow almost seems to laugh with his master. Kenma glances up when he hears the faint sound of a sword being unsheathed, but rests easy seeing the Dornishman - Asahi - showing Kai the broadsword that had been strapped to his back. Tetsuro had allowed their guards to rearm themselves, if only to ease Daichi's worries. It is for the princeling's safety, he had said. We can't know where the King's men may lurk.

"Why do you have such beasts? They are dangerous and mostly uncontrollable. They could gravely hurt you." Turning back to the northerner, Kenma feels Shoyo's hand on his. It is rough in a different way. Gentler and warm, always warm. It brings a blush to his cheeks, and he lowers his head a bit to hide behind his hair.

"Protection." He mumbles, then swallows and says again, "They're another guard, I suppose. So that I'm never truly alone." It was his idea, Tetsuro's. After all they'd seen, he wanted a security for Kenma. He wanted someone to be there when he couldn't. When Kenma wouldn't allow it.

They had saved their life once. Teeth tearing flesh and forcing the intruder to drop his blade. Snarls and screams as Kenma clasped a hand over his lord's gaping wound—

" _Kenma!_ " A voice rings out suddenly, and Kenma hears himself mutter " _Lord Kenma_ " out of habit. Then he realizes.

"Oh, gods." He sighs, and he turns his gaze to that damn, loud Lysene boy who is rushing across the yard toward them. Without another word, he waves his hand dismissively towards Lev and causes Snow to leap up and run to tackle the boy to the ground. He falls with a strangled cry.

"Who—?" Shoyo starts to ask as they watch Lev struggle to get the beast away from him. The boy spoke of bravery and heroics, but the shadowcats frightened him terribly.

"His name is Lev. He's really quite annoying, I apologize." Kenma mutters as he is approached by the towering child. He internally groans when he kneels to kiss Kenma's cheek as always. He was taught the habits of the Crownlands, but court doesn't function that way in the Vale. He wipes at his cheek with a frown when Lev backs away grinning.

"Did you do as I asked?" Kenma asks dryly.

"Exactly as asked, my lord. Now I want to meet the Dornish! I want to duel one of their best warriors." He can't quite believe the words tumbling from Lev's lips, but then again, he doesn't give much thought to many of Lev's insane ideas. When Shoyo laughs, Lev turns to him with a curious look.

" _Who_ are you?"

"Who're _you_?" Shoyo asks back, and they both stare at each other trying to force the other to respond first. Kenma intervenes before they can do something rash. He takes Shoyo's hand again without Lev noticing.

"Shoyo, this is Lev of Lys. He is training to be a knight and part of our guard. Lev, this is Shoyo of the Free Folk. He is Prince Tobio's sworn shield and part of the Dornish guard." The two look at each other for a moment before Lev laughs in realization.

"Why is a wildling in Dorne?" Shoyo's hand twitches in his, as if fighting an urge.

"Why is a Lysene in the Vale?" He easily snaps back. Lev is too distracted by this to continue pestering him about his position at the court of the sun.

"I'm only half Lysene from my mother’s side. I was raised at the court of Maidenpool, my mother was a lady there, and now I've come to be the Vale's greatest knight." He declares boldly for the entire courtyard to hear. Kenma can practically hear Kai wincing from across the yard. The boy had showed promise, but gods, at barely sixteen years old, he was insufferable as well. A harsh voice sounds and Lev's head snaps his direction,

"How do you expect to be the great knight if you aren't even a ser?" Yaku has his arms crossed over his symbol of a blazing tower. The bold blacks and red make him seem bigger than he is and serve to intimidate those who would dare defy their Commander. Kenma can hear Lev's heart race at the sight. He clambers to stand before his elder.

"I was just—"

"No excuses. You're not even in uniform. Are you trying to shame our Lord Kuroo?" He barks, and Lev shrinks a bit but never stops that infatuated smile of his. Kenma squeezes the bridge of his nose between two fingers and sighs. The boy is completely smitten and not a single word their sealord says seems to get through to him except when he says his name. Lev, Lev, their little Lysene boy. What a troublesome problem to have in the midst of these dealings with Dorne. Kenma glances at Yaku for just a moment to see a question in his eyes. He nods yes, and with a single command, manages to drag the dazzled Lev away and leaves Kenma and Shoyo alone again.

.  
  
"Shouhei wanted to know if you have a word for that boy, for someone like him." Kenma chews on his thumb in thought. They had tried to find peace in Kenma's solar, tossing off their boots for an hour to lay across the couches and relax without Lev's incessant chatter or the constant pressure of Dornishmen. The air smells of sunflowers after Lev’s return with bundles of the bloom, and it eases Kenma. He had been watching the ceiling when Yamamoto's voice brings him home, back to the Eyrie where dozens of Dornishmen wait on a senseless war. Kenma gives him an odd look, not quite sure who the witch wants to know about. Shouhei raises his head from Yamamoto's chest long enough to make a gesture, then goes back to his light sleep.

"The one who sees through eyes of beasts." With all their magic at the Isle, and with all his adventuring at the Sisters, neither had met someone like Shoyo. He thinks of white eyes and a coal black coat. Legends come to life. Men who walk in the skins of animals.

"Warg." He says, and the word seems to linger in the air.

.  
  
Tetsuro avoids actually sitting down to negotiate for as long as he can. When the Prince asks, he says plainly that he wishes to learn more about this could-be king. Then they will negotiate.

Kenma spends his time with Shoyo instead.

.  
  
He is accustomed to hear a timid two knocks on his solar door. Shouhei knocks lightly. Yamamoto practically busts the door down. Kai is two firm knocks, while Yaku is just one and then a call. Tetsuro raps on wood with his ring so it is a different sound entirely. This is Shoyo. He grants permission to enter and smiles when the wildling boy appears. The afternoon drones on as they talk by themselves. The lords are out hunting with their guards, and Yamamoto is trying to force the Dornish lieutenant Ryuu into a duel. The Eyrie is alive with two kingdoms coming together, but here in his solar, they are just two youth. He doesn't hesitate when Shoyo tangles their fingers together. He has begun to memorize the way their hands feel as one.

"I wanted to apologize for asking about your sister. I didn't know the Dornish were unaware." He says at one point, and Shoyo shrugs it off.

"The Prince and Princess knew … Tobio found out a little while ago. It was only a matter of time before everyone else knew. It's probably better this way. Less secrets I have to hide, y’know." His laugh trembles a bit, and Kenma touches his cheek with his free hand.

"You don't have to hide secrets here. Not with me." Shoyo's eyes watch him as he speaks. They are gold and orange and fire, and Kenma feels his face heat under such an intense gaze. Shoyo takes his hand away and presses it against his chest. He feels the other's heart race loud and steady. He swallows hard.  
  
"I don't ever want to hide from you, Kenma." The smell of sunflowers is everywhere. Bundles of blooming suns lay about his desk and his tables. He hadn't thought it possible to see this boy ever again, but as they kiss soft and sweet in the privacy of this little room, he thanks the gods for letting it be so.

.  
  
He laughs about the various Dornish quirks. He smiles as he speaks about their kindness, their culture. He almost shouts talking of their warriors and combat and the thrill of it all. He slows at the subject of Tobio. He explains in quiet words about darker things. Kenma's hand never leaves his. They kiss to forget their conversations, and without thinking, Kenma spills secrets of his own home.

He does not speak of the blood. He does not speak of love and what they have done for each other in this white-walled hall of theirs. He does not speak of the Moon Door nor the purge.

Shoyo is fascinated by the presence of a witch. He grins hearing that Shouhei could sense his ability to change skins, but fights back tears hearing of how Shouhei is the last of his line. They are not so unlike one another, the Dornish and the Vale. A protective lord, a loud criminal turned guard. A strong captain with a heart of gold. Shoyo seems to know little about the figure of shadows and smoke, but Kenma learns their name is Nishinoya and although Shoyo does not confirm it directly, Kenma knows they have magic too.

Shoyo seems to want to forget his princeling from the way his hands twine in Kenma's long hair and the way he kisses so fervently. He is breathless when Shoyo's lips leave his, but he holds Shoyo's face before he can escape away into the corridors and back to the Dornish once more.

"Your prince, the bastard. Did you know he dreams?" He exhales, and Shoyo looks away. So it was true. Shoyo moves so that he's not pressing Kenma into the couch any longer, but so they are sitting side by side. The wildling gnaws at his lip, and Kenma lets go of him so he may speak in peace.

"I don't think he dreams any longer, but he did long ago."

"We never stop, Shoyo. The gods do not grant dreamers mercy until they pass into the Stranger's realm. Tobio still dreams, I assure you." He sees Shoyo thinking, and then his shoulders hunch in on himself. In a panic, Kenma prays he hasn't made the boy shut himself off entirely.

"He's different from who he was back then." He begins. "He smiled more, laughed and seemed to enjoy this world. We were only fourteen, but he is so different now. Something happened to change him so, and I've only just become his friend once more, so I don't know what." Their conversation ends with this, and Kenma feels a guilt pool in his stomach at all the secrets he now holds that aren't his own.

.  
  
They feast on a massive elk that the two lords brought home with grins on their lips. The beast was bigger than either of their horses, perhaps even as big as the draft horses pulling carriages through the mountains. Valemen and Dornish alike cheer for the game and, as a gesture of kinship, Tetsuro allows Daichi the animal's great antlers to take home. Its meat is enough for two feasts, even with their great numbers, and takes a great number of men to carry to the kitchens to be butchered and cooked. The bards sing and the fiddlers play as the red wine and ales are poured into every glass. Tetsuro might have returned home with a happy smile, but tonight, he smiles in a more devious way. Kenma knows he is seeking the Prince's truth. He and his lover sit to Tetsuro's left, and Kenma watches them out of the corner of his eye. He had expected the silver-haired lord to stay with the princeling as he had for the entire week thus far. The bastard chose to dine with the other Dornish youth however: Shoyo, the Tsukishima boy, and his page. Tetsuro was paying him no mind, so he excuses himself softly to go down from the high table to converse with them all.

Ryuu, as he remembers, and Yamamoto are trying their best to ask the Lady of Kingsgrave for a dance, but she refuses them in preference to speak with Yaku whose more composed attitude no doubt wins over two rowdy ex-thieves. Lev seems to be staring at Yaku with no response and then drinking the ale with the most disgusted expression Kenma's ever seen. The Dornismen had traveled north under the guise of bettering relations with the Vale, and although that was not their true goal, it had happened ever the same.

"Lord Kozume." The princeling says stiffly, likely surprised by Kenma's sudden appearance. Kenma dismisses the title and says simple "Kenma" is fine. Tobio says his first name is fine too. It is difficult to make conversation with him at first, but once Shoyo gets past politeness and interrupts to chat too, things go better along. He finds at one point that Tobio enjoys archery above all else. He enjoys the sword and the horse, but archery is something else entirely, he says. Kenma smiles and agrees.

"Y'know, I've never seen you try archery, Kei." Shoyo says suddenly, turning to the quieter blonde nearby. He snorts into his wine goblet as does his page.

"I have no interest, just as I have no interest in the sword." Kenma watches the expressions on Shoyo and Tobio's face and sees not a hint of laughter or understanding. He realizes neither knows of the lordling's lack of sight. Glancing back at the high table, he thinks surely the Prince himself must know of such a thing. It would endanger any man to have such a defect, but the son of such a prestigious house is another matter entirely. He meets Daichi's gaze for a moment and hurriedly turns his attention back to the four before him. Tobio asks to have a competition between he and Kenma to see who is the better shot. The thought makes him nervous, but he supposes he must agree for diplomacy's sake. When he accepts, the princeling smiles merrily; it's the first time Kenma has seen such an emotion from the otherwise brooding boy. As they continue to laugh, Shoyo reaches to Kenma and brushed his blonde hair behind his ear gently. Kenma cannot help but smile as well.

"What has caused His Grace to smile so?" Kenma feels Tetsuro's arm around his shoulders as his elegant and amused voice sounds out behind him. He hadn't thought to look for Tetsuro at the high table just now and feels flustered and caught off-guard.

"Lord Kenma and I are going to compete with a bow and arrow sometime." Kenma notes the title slipped back in for propriety's sake. Although he is less formal than most, Tetsuro enjoys the respect of being liege lord and having Kenma at his side. Tetsuro laughs.

"What fun. My Keeper will surely give you a good challenge." Looking up at him for a moment, he sees Tetsuro's eyes on the blonde not the king. "Tell me, Your Grace, is the song and dance not pleasing to you?" Tobio blinks in confusion, but then begins to shake his head.

"The bard has a wonderful voice, my Lord. I don't know how to dance like the Dornish however, and not like you Valemen do either."

"Surely it cannot be so different from the capital's ways? Ever the same, I shall show you the steps." Kenma has never seen the capital dance, but he knows the dance of the Stormlands and knows it is vastly different from their own. He has danced with Tetsuro for years, and makes one motion to take Tetsuro's hand and go dance when suddenly the lord presses his emptied goblet into Kenma's hand and takes his arm away. Kenma stops cold and watches the grin on the other's face grow. It looks like he was going to take the princeling by the hand, but then he chooses the blonde instead.

"Kei, is it?" He asks smoothly, hand settling on the Dornishman's thinner waist. He stutters an affirmative. He had always seemed so collected, so cold and composed, but the suddenness of the Vale lord taking him in his arms must shock him as it shocks them all. Tetsuro takes his other hand in his.

"Let's dance." The page begins to panic, but Tetsuro is sweeping Kei away to the floor before he can protest. The lordling has no choice but to let Tetsuro guide him in dance and step both for surely he does not know the hall as he knows his home of Sunspear, and there is no way out. Kenma feels his nails digging uselessly into the engravings on the cup. His jaw hurts suddenly from how he clenches his feet. He refuses to let his face betray him, but the hurt is so great. Tetsuro is so graceful, and after an odd beginning, the Dornish boy follows but not without what looks like a complaint. Kenma knows the feeling of his strong hands on his waist, knows the way he leads and how it feels to be pressed so close. He cannot hear their words above the bard and the singers, but he sees Tetsuro lean closer to whisper into Kei's ear with a smirk. A sick, upset feeling forces Kenma to look away.  
  
.

When Tobio wins the archery contest, the Dornishmen cheer, and Yaku quietly remarks that Kenma could have easily won as he helps the younger off his horse. He smiles to himself and tells Yaku to look at how the Dornish love their princeling.

"It would be disheartening to see their could-be king lose in an archery contest. It wouldn't bode well for his prospects at war." At this, Yaku smiles as well and slaps Kenma on the back with a laugh as they go to congratulate the victor. Kenma pointedly ignores how his lord seems to be watching not Tobio, but Kei.

.  
  
Kenma wonders if they should have not offered sweet water instead of wine to drink during the negotiations. Tetsuro thought it best not to decline the Dornish gifts, so they drank his cousin's strongwine and began discussing. Truth be told, everything had started out smoothly. Tetsuro wanted to know what began Daichi on this quest, and he explained that it was his paramour's plan. Kenma doesn't like the way Koushi watches him and has watched him since their arrival. He shifts uncomfortably and without thinking, moves closer to Tetsuro as they speak. Koushi was fond of the princeling, they say, and Kenma notes how they never call him bastard like the Valemen do. What love for the natural-born, he thinks as he sips delicately at the wine.

"You heard Lord Irihata read the will just as I did. We sat at the same table with our other liege lords." Daichi says, and Tetsuro hums in accordance. Kenma thinks of a discordant scream. Blood and fury and a broken crown. He watches Koushi watching Tetsuro. They had waited for these talks so that they could evaluate the bastard, but the Dornish evaluated them for just as long. Were they a trustworthy ally? They must have asked themselves. Could this Vale lord do more harm than good?

"I am sure you remember my reaction then." The Prince has a stiff smile when he hears this.

"Yes. You said you'd never see a bastard crowned. Not on your throne, nor the Iron." Tetsuro hums once more.

"We are not Dornish, Daichi. Your people are the only ones who accept bastards, and they're the only ones who would dare support Tobio's claim." He says in a most casual tone, and the Prince's hand twitches around his lover's shoulder.

"Oh, I very much know that you do not accept baseborn children, Tetsuro. You publicly spoke out against my acknowledgment of my daughter." The atmosphere starts to shift away from the friendliness of before, and Tetsuro only sort of tries to recover it.

"Surely you must understand why I had to condemn her." He begins. "Your wife had fled your palace, your kingdom was in revolt. If your people and family who so love these bastards were upset, imagine what my Valemen would have been like. It's politics, my lord. Politics and public face." His words are true and legitimate. The Vale was so very much based in honor and nobility. A bastard is a mistake in their minds, but the Dornish see them as creations of love and burning passion. He wonders briefly if Tobio is a mistake or if he was born of love. Daichi's sharp tone interrupts him.

"You crossed a line back then. You said I had gone against the Faith, but it is not I who have betrayed my faith." There had been rumors of the god of a fiery light, but they were few. On the contrary, there were an infinite amount of whispers of what Tetsuro had done, and all of them broke the laws of the Seven.

Half of them were true. Tetsuro sighs.

"Oh, but don't you remember all those whispers of the Red God? The Prince who began to worship flames and an eastern god." Kenma thinks of the man of shadows. Shoyo had said they were of Essosi descent. He thumbs the designs on his goblet and avoids the paramour's gaze. Men were monsters with all their godless sin. They in this room were no exception.

"Those were rumors." Daichi grits out. "Crafted by those who dared rise against me." Kenma wonders what angle Tetsuro is getting at with the question of faith. He himself has not stepped foot in the Eyrie's sept since that night three years past.

"Understand me here. You have sired no heir, and your wife of — how long, is it — three years now? She is childless still. One has to wonder if you're really trying." Both the Dornishmen seem to fight grimaces. Daichi loves his paramour, that much is plain to see, but Kenma thinks he is surely a dutiful man. It is not likely that he and his wife never tried to bear sons. Kenma folds his arms over his stomach without thinking. Sometimes the gods give children. Sometimes they don’t. He glances once at the silver-haired beauty before them and tightens his arms around himself. He once dreamt of his belly swelling with child. After everything that has happened, he thinks that he is surely one of those whom the gods would not ever grace with sons. The Princess perhaps was another.

Tetsuro's hand strokes his arm absent-mindedly. He feels the wine taking its effect.

"A girl born to your paramour can bear no crown, surely you know that." Tetsuro says this so matter-of-factly that the Prince cannot resist the anger it brings. It is a fact in the Vale, but more obscure in the South. They are so different there. They are not Dornish, as Tetsuro said, and perhaps because of this, they will never understand one another. Even with marriages and pacts and blood, maybe friendship between the Vale and Dorne is just a silly dream.

"You know, Tetsuro. I don't feel like you have any ground to stand on in this argument. I love my family, and we are blessed for what we have. You, however. You don't have a single child of your own and are very much unwed. One begins to wonder why." He repeats his cousin's words to harden the blow. Looking at Kai beside them, he sees the guards begin to look restless. Kenma himself feels a sudden anxiety rising as the lords' voices grow sharper and more curt with each word.

"I have found no one agreeable, that is all."

"No one agreeable, is it? Or perhaps that the one you wish cannot be yours." Kenma feels Tetsuro tense up beside him. He does not look, but he knows the coy smile is long gone from his lord's face.

"You speak lowly of us southerners, but we have women in our courts and would never force themselves to conceal as otherwise." Kenma wants to shrink in on himself, but stays in place with Tetsuro's hand on him. Tetsuro speaks suddenly.

"Tell me about family, Daichi." The request catches them all off-guard, and makes the Prince ask what in the world Tetsuro's getting at. Kenma's vision is a bit blurred, and he fears the feeling of Koushi watching him. He knows, he knows. Even with Tetsuro's distraction, Kenma can see that Koushi knows. How could he not when they are almost one in the same.

"We spoke of your daughter, of your wife. Tell me of Chikara. Tell me of your dear brother."

"What of him?"

"You said you love your family, but I don't quite believe you." He moves his arm from around Kenma to grab his goblet of strongwine and finish the last few sips. Kenma isn't even halfway done with his. He fears the words to come.

"How can _you_ say that? Just because family means nothing to someone like you." He almost says it. Kenma can see the word sitting on the tip of his tongue. He wants to cry out kinslayer, killer of his own blood. But his god gives him sense to keep the word held in, and Tetsuro is not as merciful withholding harsh words.

"You chose a cruel, cruel general over your own blood. You let this man stay in your court while he drove your brother to Essos."

"Don't you fucking say that I drove Chikara away. Ukai is entirely to blame for what transpired that year."

"Entirely to blame? You gave him permission to do as he wished, to train your brother. You were too busy forcing your lover to unwillingly carry your child to stop him. Is this " _family_ " to you Dornishmen?"

"Shut up—"

"What all did he do to Chikara, I wonder? How did he train the second sun of Dorne?" Tetsuro leans forward with an awful grin. "Did he yell? Did he beat him, I wonder? What all did you let that man do that so broke him and sent him so far away?"

"I didn't him — I didn't —" Daichi begins, but the rage is too much and he cannot form words against his cousin's questions. Then, Tetsuro gets quiet. Kenma sees that Koushi is staring at his own hands. He looks sick like Kenma feels, but since he hasn't touched his glass at all, he knows it is only Tetsuro's words making him feel this way.

"Who knows … maybe he did to your brother what you've only dreamt of?" His voice is so smooth then. So smooth and low that there is no way his words can be thought to mean that the Prince would want to beat or break his brother. No, Tetsuro implies that Daichi wanted something more.

" _How fucking dare you?_ " He snaps, and in a second, he has thrown the heavy goblet in his hand now near-empty of wine at Tetsuro's head. Tetsuro hits it away with a laugh and shakes his hand off to fight the pain.

"Did you so prefer to have this man of war that you would allow so much?"

"I prefer _no one_ to my brother." Kenma feels Tetsuro inhale, almost like a gasp. There it was, what he was baiting for all along. He couldn't let Daichi tear Tetsuro and Kenma apart, so Tetsuro beat him to it. He would ruin the Prince and his love first.

Koushi bites his lip hard and turns his head away.

He doesn't fight this, and gods, Tetsuro has his leverage against the Prince.

"Have you even touched your wife, Daichi?" Daichi looks ill. His face is red from shame and rage, and his hands grip his knees so tight that his olive skin is paling. "Is she still pure because you prefer to spend your nights abed with this "man"? Gods know you at least fucked your whore once, because he bore that little spawn with my aunt's name. Have you touched your wife, Daichi? Or perhaps here too, you prefer your brother above all else." Kenma sees the Prince give up hope of restraining himself. Koushi starts to move away.

Daichi snarls out his remark just as he's lunging across the table.

"At least _I_ did not _force_ my lover to be a man."

Tetsuro meets him halfway.

Daichi has one foot planted on the table's surface before Tetsuro's up, but Tetsuro uses his unsteady footing to throw Daichi to the side. Kenma stares in horror, and the two captains don't know what to do.

Panicked, Kenma looks to Koushi, but the paramour just stares away with hard-set eyes. He is disgusted. Completely disgusted with the lords before them. Before he can blink, Tetsuro's fist has connected with the Prince's cheek. He traps Daichi to the floor, pins him with his knees against his gut, but Daichi wrestles free after he grabs Tetsuro's longer hair and yanks hard. Kenma hears the cats' claws scratching wildly at the heavy door. They cry out and yowl in rage.

Tetsuro laughs and grabs Daichi's wrist from his hair and bends his arm back painfully.

"You might not have forced your whore to dress in breeches, but you forced your own mother to give up her throne." Daichi manages to land a blow on Tetsuro's jaw that forces him to release his other arm. He spits at Daichi in disgust. "You are so greedy, Daichi. You stole the sun throne, now you desire the iron throne too." Daichi grabs for Tetsuro and sends them both sprawling on the floor, Tetsuro's shoulders slamming against cold stone and he immediately kicks between the Prince's legs to get him off again.

"When will your lust for power be satisfied?" He shouts. Daichi struggles to his knees to glare at his cousin with the most hate-filled eyes.

" _My_ lust for power? You are a murderer, a goddamned kinslayer. You killed your own father then Kenma's own! All for this shit kingdom of yours full of pirates and rapists and the _evilest_ of men."

"My kingdom has evils? Your court is full of bastards and whores and filthy _heathens_! You yourself worship a red devil alongside that fucking assassin of yours." Tetsuro grabs Daichi around the neck and, gods, he holds so tight with every intent to kill. "Did he bewitch you, trick you to forsake the seven? For what?" Daichi's hands grab at Tetsuro's, scratch at them desperately and Kenma sobs out a command for Kai to separate them, please. Tetsuro hisses low and angry, "For _what_ , cousin? A kingdom of sand and scum and a chance to _fuck_ your little brother?"

Daichi grabs Tetsuro's throat as well, and digs his nails hard through the collar and chokes out,

"At least I didn't stab a knife in my father's back." Kai and Asahi both struggle to get their lords free. Tetsuro grins terribly and whispers,

"It was poison, _you fool._ "

Daichi stops cold. Kenma feels his stomach jump into his throat hearing these words, this honest, terrible confession. This moment of terror gives the captains just enough time to pry them apart, and without Tetsuro's hands tight around his throat, Daichi breathes once again, but not without staring at the Valemen in horror. Tetsuro has admitted one of the gravest sins. But then, so has the Prince.

"Get out," Tetsuro exhales, grin fading in an instant as he realizes what has occurred. "Get the fuck out." He barks, and the silver lord is the first to stand. His motions are sharp and not elegant like he usually is. He is perhaps angrier than any of them in the room. He says the captain's name once before walking out the door, Asahi and Daichi in tow along with the other two guards. Light and Snow slip past the Dornish quickly and come to circle their masters in worry. Kai's loosens his grip on Tetsuro, but only lets go when he whispers Kenma's name.

Kenma was unable to move, unable to intervene at all except to beg Kai to do so. Now, he is unable to move from his seat until Tetsuro comes to kneel before him. The worry, the fear, all of it that had been concealed by rage in front of the Prince, comes pouring out now. Kenma hurries to take Tetsuro's face in his hands.

"It's okay," He says in a hushed tone. He repeats it once then twice, then five times as he gently caresses Tetsuro's face until he feels the other begin to relax under his touch. The lord rests his hands on Kenma's thighs and breathes in.

"How does he know?" He asks, and Kenma prays his answers assure him.

"He doesn't. Oh, my lord, he doesn't, he can't." Tetsuro's brow furrows, and Kenma continues in the steadiest voice he can. "It is suspicion, he only suspects it. It must be because his paramour is the same."

"He does not know for certain." Tetsuro echoes quietly with a nod. Kenma sees his breathing start to even out, and Kenma runs one hand through his hair gently. "We cannot give him any proof. These Dornish are devils enough without knowing our secrets." He says, and Kenma sees Kai nod in agreeance. He brushes his lips with Tetsuro's as a promise of this, and then pulls him close. The feel of his shaky breath against his neck does not ease Kenma's fears, but he knows Tetsuro will do whatever it takes to protect this family of theirs. His arms tighten a hint around his lord, hand twisting in Tetsuro's jet black hair. Kenma begins to pray.

.  
  
The Dornish do not leave the eastern tower for many days. Daichi was surely frightened by Tetsuro's confession, and he takes to forbidding his men from leaving the safety of his watch. Kenma wonders if the princeling is ever allowed to leave Daichi's line of sight. Tension in the Eyrie is so thick is almost suffocates them all. Kenma paces the gardens to eat the hours away. The knights continue on as normal, but never without quiet mutters about what is happening, questions and concerns that they don't dare raise to their lord.

He tries to soothe the younger ones' worries, tries to tell Yuuki and Sou and Lev that everything will be alright, but his voice betrays him, and he falls silent in the end.

He does not know what Tetsuro will do with the Dornish.

He does not know what he plans for the bastard prince.

.  
  
Kenma almost yells at Shoyo when he appears before him in the gardens. He is not angry in the least, he is in fact so very pleased to see the wildling boy. But not a single Dornishman had left the tower in days except for a handful of guards who were too restless to stay within its confining white walls. Tetsuro has, for the most part, locked himself up in his solar to think. He visited the rookery two days past, but Kenma did not know where the raven was meant to go. He had assumed the worst and feared a reply from the King accepting Tetsuro's offer of the bastard's head.

"It's too dangerous for us to be seen like this. You shouldn't even be outside the Maiden's Tower, you shouldn't be away from Tobio." Kenma hisses as he leads Shoyo to the outer walls where the winds blow too loud for anyone to overhear them. It's the only place Kenma can think by himself, it's the only place he can be alone among all this fear and tension.

"I needed to see you." He answers, and Kenma's heart aches. What a sweet love this boy gives, and what Kenma would do to be able to accept it fully.

They meet like this each mid-morning. Their hands twine together as they sit in the nooked parapets and watch the valleys below. Kenma remembers seeing the Dornish colors weaving up the Giant's Lance only two weeks past. So much has changed since then. The Dornish brought curiosity and intrigue, but now their presence is anger and treachery. Kenma asks honestly why the Dornish haven't just left. Tetsuro would not stop them, or at least, he probably wouldn't. The thought of that sole raven flying south scares him, nags at him from the back of his mind.

"Your sealord is holding our ships at Gulltown. He threatens to run them against the rocks if we try to leave."

"Yaku?" Kenma says in horror. "No, no … Shoyo, Yaku is not that kind of man." He stutters at the thought. Yaku was hard and tough, but he was not one to overreact. It must have been under order. Shoyo says that the guards have blocked them in the tower as well. He saw Kai speaking apologies to Asahi and claiming it was for their own good. Kenma quakes in rage. He kisses Shoyo's cheek goodbye and mutters that he will return. He goes to the Maiden Tower to confirm this with the Dornish captain, but two of his own Valemen stop him before he can ascend the stairs.

"My lord, you cannot enter."

"Why?" Kenma demands. His fears are bottling up quicker within and then they explain that Kenma personally was forbidden to enter the tower. They apologize, but Kenma pivots on his heel and walks away before they can finish.

He finds himself sitting between Shoyo's legs one morning in an old garden frequented by no one, the wildling's arms curled around him protectively. Two more days have passed, and Tetsuro has refused to speak of the Dornish with him. Kenma almost began to shout, but in the end, he just turned away from Tetsuro in their bed and tried to sleep. Nights were uneasy. Daytime with Shoyo was the only good. He feels rather small. He has not felt so powerless in many years. He gained control of his own life when Tetsuro made him Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. He raised Kenma from when he felt like nothing. Now, this fear and worry reduces him to pieces again. The only thing he can control it seems are these moments with Shoyo. His hands around Kenma's waist, Kenma's ear pressed to his chest listening to the boy's steady heartbeat to calm him. The smell of the mountains when he closes his eyes makes him think of another.

He uncurls himself slightly and twists in his lap so that he is on his knees above Shoyo. The boy blinks up at him, questioning but not refusing. Holding Shoyo's face between his hands, Kenma wonders if what he's doing is right. In this moment, his mind seeks assurances his body responds thus. It is not Shoyo he ought to seek, but the one he loves has refused them all, so Shoyo's love will make do.

His kisses had once been so sweet, but as each embrace lasted longer than the next, Shoyo begins to kiss like a man. His hands rest firmly on Kenma's waist and as they kiss slow and languid but sensual all the same, they move to his lower back to press their bodies closer. Hot, Kenma thinks. This boy from the Wall burns as hot as the Dornish sun. Kenma fears the flames may devour him whole, but he welcomes the heat.

Red hair tangled in fingertips, needy lips and soft moans. There is nothing chaste about this. There is nothing innocent about the way Kenma's body reacts to feeling Shoyo's hips trapped between his thighs. There is nothing boy-like about how Shoyo moves one hand to cup his ass and elicit a choked groan from the Valeman. Never has another touched him in this way, and Kenma feels the other smile against their kiss.

By the time they find sense to stop, Kenma can feel a wetness between his legs and knows his face is blotchy red and embarrassed. He fixes Shoyo's hair quietly as the other boy tries to calm down. He can feel his hardness pressed against his thigh but doesn't comment. His face almost matches the color of his hair. Perhaps he too is ashamed. Instead of apologizing or perhaps asking that they say this never happened, Shoyo asks something else.

"Are you not Lord Kuroo's paramour?" He stutters, and Kenma's hand stops just above Shoyo's ear. The thought of Lord Koushi comes to him. He thinks of that child in his womb and thinks of the way Daichi's hand entwines with Koushi's without either of them thinking about it. He thinks of love and thinks of lust.

A paramour is a lover, aren't they? They are the one you bring to bed when your wife does not satisfy you. They are the one you give your heart even if you give your lawful allegiance to your wife. In Dorne they were seen as beautiful, wonderful partners to a loving man. For the briefest moment, Kenma finds a bit of jealousy brewing inside him at the difference in cultures. The Vale does not accept mistresses and paramours, just as they do not accept bastards and baseborns.

"It … that is the furthest from the truth." He says softly. He prays his words can convince Shoyo, and maybe convince himself too.

"I am his Keeper." When he says this, the expression Shoyo makes conveys only confusion, and so Kenma presses on with a frown. He tries to think of how to explain being Tetsuro's Keeper. It is not what is ought to be, it is not what it is lawfully. His father was to Tetsuro's father as a Keeper ought to be. He was dutiful and diligent and guarded the Gates until his last days. To be Tetsuro's Keeper was different, just as Tetsuro was not simply Kenma's lord.

"Do you have someone you would do anything for?" He asks. The thought arises of his little sister, and surely that is who Shoyo thinks of first. He traveled the Wall for weeks searching for the sea to escape. He traveled from continent to city to town across land and ocean and treacherous terrains for her. Still, it was more than that even. It was not about what you were willing to do to yourself for them. It was what you would do to others.

"Anything and _everything_. Kill for, even _die_ for?" The wildling is silent. Kenma wonders if he thinks of his sister still. He almost asks if Shoyo thinks this way of his prince.

"That is what he is to me, and I to him. There is no limit to what we would do, to what we have done for one another." He murmurs. His eyes focus on the ring around his finger. Quiet moonstone inlaid among beautiful twisting silver. An echo of the sunstone ring Tetsuro wears each day. They are constant reminders of the night Tetsuro whispered into his ear.

"Be mine." He had said. Kenma almost hadn't heard it above the singing and the dance. The Stormlanders were so loud and joyful that they had drawn almost all of Kenma's attention. His gaze had been fixed on the ever-laughing Storm Lord with his arm looped around the waist of his quieter advisor with the so watchful eyes. Be mine, he had whispered against Kenma's jet black hair. When he had turned to joke that Tetsuro had drank too much, the lord had captured his lips with his own. A soft, pliant kiss that spoke of only love.

"Be my Keeper." He had asked. And when he had seen the beautiful ring presented to him, Kenma had no choice but to accept. For the briefest moment, he thought it was a ring of a different kind. The type a man gives his to-be wife. Dressed in men's robes and called a little lord, Kenma had never been fit to be Tetsuro's wife.

"I am his Keeper; there is no other word for it."

.  
  
He ignores Tetsuro for the most part when he comes stumbling into their chambers that night. Kenma has the covers half-over himself and a book tucked in the crook of his elbow to read until he sleeps. Irritated, Kenma can hear his lord's drunkenness in his speech and the uneven steps.

"I have decided to negotiate once more with my cousin Prince." He informs Kenma, and the boy turns over in bed to look at him. He shucks off his boots and heavy robe with practiced ease despite his state of intoxication.

"He is a heathen, but he is not stupid. I think I do not mind these Dornish so much." The thought eases Kenma's anxieties from before. Alcohol makes Tetsuro more honest, he knows, and he honestly plans to sit down with the Dornish once more. Kenma sees now that the two lords must have had a few glasses to celebrate a newfound albeit tentative agreement. He allows himself to smile, but it lasts only a moment.

"I do not like that wildling though." Tetsuro slurs as he slides into bed behind Kenma. He shoves the book away without letting Kenma even protest. He starts to, but Tetsuro easily flips him the other way so that he can press himself flush against Kenma's back. He feels Tetsuro's length through their clothes pressed against his backside and draws in a breath of air as he feels Tetsuro's lips against his neck.

"I saw you with him." Tetsuro murmurs against the shell of his ear. Kenma shudders at the feeling of his breath, shudders when he senses Tetsuro's hands trailing along his thighs, dragging up his nightgown with teasing fingers. Kenma could smell the alcohol reeking off his lord. Strongwine, heavy and spiced on his breath. He is suddenly paralyzed by fear.

"I saw you kiss him, saw his hands on you. Saw him fall for you." His hand strokes Kenma's thigh, firm and insistent, squeezing his softer flesh in a drunken, jealous haze. His heart races in his throat, but he cannot speak to refuse.

"Did he touch you like I do? Tell me, my love. Did his hands feel as good as mine? Did he make you cry out like I can?" Tetsuro's hand moved to his inner thigh, slow but strong and easily able to part Kenma's thighs so he can do as he pleased. The smell of wine was suffocating. His usual scent of wind and steel and mountain woods is drowned out by the alcohol. Kenma wants to gag. He tenses up feeling Tetsuro's fingers touch him through his smallclothes. What is normally so pleasurable is terrifying because he knows Tetsuro isn't in his right mind at all.

"He — no, he didn't — we didn't do anything —" Kenma stutters in a quiet, scared voice. When his lord laughs so soft, Kenma feels a heavy weight pool in his gut. The hand that normally twines with his as they lay at night, Kenma's back to Tetsuro's broad chest, wraps around his neck sweetly, caresses there. A threatening embrace. Kenma instinctively rips his hand away.

Tetsuro snaps. He yanks himself upright and in a flash, Kenma is pinned underneath him. He feels like he's stopped breathing.

"You think you can forget me and all I have done for you?" Tetsuro's hair is a mess. His eyes are red with sleeplessness. His grip on Kenma aches. He can see Tetsuro's heart crying out, and it hurts Kenma to the core. To think he could ever forget his lord. To think it possible for even a second, even half a second at that. How could Tetsuro think that.

His voice is cruel, and his words slur and stutter as he tries to compose his thoughts through the haze of rage. Kenma stays perfectly still underneath him until Tetsuro seems to remember what he wanted in truth. Love, all of Kenma's love and more.

He sits back enough to yank Kenma's clothes up to his waist. Kenma's hands fly to his skirts to cover himself, but he isn't quick enough. Tetsuro tugs off his smallclothes and shoves Kenma's legs open for him to kneel between.

"Tetsuro, please—" He's silenced by a rough and wet kiss, tongue forcing its way past Kenma's lips and making him feel sick on the overwhelming taste of strongwine. Tetsuro's hands grab the half-open collar of his gown and yank, tearing the soft cotton to expose his chest for Tetsuro's taking. Kenma gasps, breaking the kiss, and feels Tetsuro's teeth on his neck, marking him, claiming him. He moves to kiss and suck at his breasts, and Kenma arches into the touch with a strangled moan. It was always gentle before, gentle and good, causing a giggle or a sigh of delight. Not this time. He snatches Kenma by the waist when he twists away from his grip.

"Flaunting this stupid, bastard wildling... Tell me, did he bed you already? Did he take your virtue?" Tetsuro snarls, and Kenma thinks his hips might bruise from how tight he's being held. He feels sick at the thought that his lord would think so lowly of him, to give himself to someone he's known for so little time. He had never let another touch him in such an intimate way, it was only ever Tetsuro's hands upon his body that he had wanted. It was Tetsuro he wanted to give himself to.

I only want you, he wishes to say, but his mouth is pressed shut and his chest is too tight to breathe. He almost tells Tetsuro to take him right then. He is shaking and scared, but if Tetsuro wants proof of his fidelity then let him take his maidenhood for his own, let him be ruined for the sake of satisfying this envious monster hiding in the hands of his love.

Take me, he wants to cry, let me show you it is only you I love.

"As if he could _ever_ love you like I do. As if he would do even _half_ the things I have done for you." Kenma's hands push weakly against him. He is not a warrior, he doesn't have even half the strength Tetsuro does, and his motions mean nothing. Tetsuro's gaze on him is hard and cruel like his grip. It sends Kenma shrinking in on himself, shying away as if this was not a man before him but a predator, a beast. Then, he asks,

"Do you think he would love you enough to kill for you? To protect you from the ones who were destroying you, killing you?" Kenma sobs. Shoyo is too innocent. The love between them is too pure for such awful things. The boy had seen pain and death, but he still smiles on, and that's what Kenma loved. He would protect Kenma if he had to, but he doesn't know if he would kill. If he would murder for the sake of their love.

"Stop—" He whispers, feeling the tears pricking at his eyes. Hot and ashamed of what's transpired. He tries to move away, to back up against the headboard and curl in on himself away from these questions, away from the accusation that his heart may belong to another. It hurt, this love. It was bloody and messy and dark. Shoyo could offer him something else. Tetsuro scowls, snarls when Kenma tries to back away. He grabs Kenma's thighs tight and yanks him flush against him. He feels every inch of Tetsuro's desire, of his anger and rage and heat coiling where their hips meet.

"I would burn whole kingdoms for you." His hand presses between them, strokes Kenma's sex roughly, and despite himself, Kenma's body responds. A trembling moan passes his swollen red lips, but he bites down so not to cry out once again. Tetsuro thinks he is pleasing Kenma, but not like this. It isn't meant to feel like this, to make Kenma's stomach twist with dread and guilt. It isn't meant to make him shake in fear not delight. His fingers inside feel good, but awful at the same time.

"I don't want this." He weeps, closing his eyes tight so not to see the betrayal of his love like this. It's a nightmare, he tells himself. This isn't true. Two hands grab his face, forcing him to look. Tetsuro's eyes brim with tears.

"What can he offer you that I cannot. Why him?" His voice breaks, and his hands go lax in defeat. "Why am I not the one you love? _Why?_ "

But he is. Oh, Kenma fights the urge to cry out it's you. It’s you, it's you, it's always been and will forever be you who I love. There are too many dead between them though. Too much sin and silence to suddenly speak now. He almost said it years ago when Tetsuro offered him the ring of silver and moonstone. He could have said it then. It's too late now. His grip on Kenma is weak, and Kenma acts in an instant to free himself. He shoves Tetsuro's shoulder back to give himself room to bolt away. The stone floor is cold and sobers Kenma from the touch of his lord. This was just a dream, he tries to tell himself as he rushes to the heavy chamber door to escape. He grabs the handle tight enough to hurt, and in a moment of weakness, he looks back.

Tetsuro's face is twisted in despair. His cheeks shine with tears and though he moves to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, Kenma can hear him choke out a sob.

Kenma yanks open the door and flees.

.  
  
He does not speak when Kai opens the door. Even though spring has warmed the Vale, the nights are still cold, and Kenma stands shivering in his thin nightgown with tears streaking down his face, arms clasped over his chest to cover himself. Kai catches him the moment his knees so weak. It took all his strength to run, and now he is crumbling. He whispers their lord's name, and Kai's arms tighten around him knowingly. It was Kai who saved him three years past. Tetsuro had been drunk on bloodlust then not Dornish wines, but the scene had frightening similarities. Sitting here safely in Kai's embrace, Kenma twists his ring around his finger and tries to breathe.

"You should sleep." Kai says softly sometime later. Kenma had been counting his breaths, and he doesn't know how long he's been curled against their captain. He opens his eyes, no doubt red and irritated from all the tears, and shakes his head. Kai continues rubbing gentle circles on his back.

"I don't want to dream." He confesses, and Kai understands. They stay quiet for a long while as Kai considers what to do and Kenma stares blankly at the lone candle on his bedside table. Kai's chambers are simple and tidy, small even, and being here brings Kenma comfort when Tetsuro cannot.

"Well, we cannot take you to the eastern tower with all the Dornish there..." He mutters, and then after a pause, says Shouhei's name. Kenma nods in an instant to agree. Kai wraps a warm blanket of wool around his shoulders to keep Kenma covered and thumbs away his tears before taking the candle from his bedside and leading them outside. Kenma holds onto his broad hand but keeps his eyes on the floor. The draft through the halls sends shivers down his spine and makes him walk closer to the knight who keeps a slow pace for him to follow.

He knocks twice on the witch's door.

"Shouhei, Taketora. It's Kai." When Yamamoto opens the door in only breeches, he is wiping at his eyes blearily. He straightens into a defensive pose immediately upon seeing Kenma trembling beneath their captain's arm. Shouhei practically vaults off the bed to come to the door as well.

"What happened?" Yamamoto demands, but is silenced by a look from Kai. Shouhei rests a hand on his lover's chest to have him back away and open the door to let Kenma in.

"Give him something to sleep, but not to dream." Kai murmurs as he leans to kiss Kenma's temple and say he'll be safe here. He gives Kenma's shoulder a squeeze and the lordling smiles weakly back at him with a whispered thanks. After Kai is gone, Yamamoto bolts the door and turns to where Shouhei is guiding Kenma to sit on their bed. His hands skim over Kenma's forehead then rub at his arms to warm him. The fire in their chambers is low, so Yamamoto adds wood, and he knows to keep his back turned as Shouhei checks Kenma over for any injuries.

His touch is kind and purely for examination, but the feeling of anyone's hands on his hips at this moment makes his stomach curl. He fights the urge to shove Shouhei's hands away as he carefully looks at the bruising skin in forms of handprints and nail bites. He hears Yamamoto cursing with his head in his hands by the fire, and knows they both recognize their giver. He starts to speak in violence and rage, but Shouhei barks a syllable and the noise shocks him into silence. Let Kai be enraged. Let Yaku make him hurt. We are here for Kenma, he says in signs and unsaid words through their bond of bewitched blood. The pirate balls his fists tight and leans his weight on the fireplace mantle. He counts breaths and calms himself.

Kenma shivers when Shouhei gently removes his half-torn gown. There are teeth across his collar and breasts, fingerprints on his thighs. Shouhei frowns in silence and wears a terribly upset expression. He touches Kenma's stomach, then the softness of his marked inner thighs. There's no blood, no physical evidence, but Shouhei suspects the worst, and his eyes seem to ask the most awful question. Kenma exhales a weak reply.

"He didn't." Not this time, and not the last time either. He and Tetsuro were many things, complicated, twisted things, but they were not lovers and Tetsuro, even with the alcohol in him tonight, Tetsuro would never force himself on Kenma. Especially not for his first.

Shouhei pulls the wool back over Kenma's naked body as he stands to fetch something for Kenma to wear and something to help him sleep. Kenma closes his legs tightly and pulls the blanket close. Shouhei goes to a cabinet to dig around, then fills a glass halfway with sweet water. He finds a spare sleeping gown that is surely too long, but Kenma accepts it gratefully. The witch kneels before Kenma and hands him two small bottles of dark muddy green and clear grey along with the glass, and when their hands brush, Kenma seems to hear him say "drink."

The room swims with magic and spells wind themselves about every brick and through every threaded tapestry. A feeling of home sweeps over him, and he thinks of old words learned in the comfort of this quiet room. Putrid is the potion but the water helps wash the foul taste away and relax Kenma once more. The mud-colored bottle contained dreamless draught brewed to keep away dreams of days to come, and he hazards a guess that the second was for the marks. He feels the tears well up again at the corners of his eyes, but Shouhei thumbs them away without hesitation. After Kenma slips the sleeping gown over his head, Yamamoto comes back from the fire and takes Kenma's hand in his own.

"We're here." He forces himself to say, but they all know he'd rather speak hurts to Tetsuro and threaten their lord. Kenma nods, and manages a hinted, thankful smile.

Yamamoto pulls the sofa closer to the bed that night so he can sit up and watch the two sleep soundly. Kenma feels safe in Shouhei's arms, pressed against the lankier body, his long hands drawing circles on his back no doubt enchanted with calm thoughts. He sleeps without dreams as he wished.

.

He thanks whatever god put told Shouhei to walk with him that next day. Every corner felt like a threat. Every shadow set Kenma on edge. The Dornish are out of their tower once more, and Kenma hears their laughter echoing with the Vale guards as he and Shouhei walk. Just before they pass the armory, he hears Kai speak in a strange tone. They both realize that he is speaking to Tetsuro.  
  
"Keep an eye on him, please." Their lord says in quiet words, hurt words. Kenma cannot see his face, but knows the expression he must wear. Kai promises, swears it with the same voice that he swore to protect Kenma when he became Keeper. A man like Kai does not promise such without intending to fulfill his vows. After a long moment of silence, Shouhei tugs his hand motioning that they ought to leave before one of the others finds them.  
  
"Wait." He mouths with a desperate face.  
  
"Is this like the purge?" Kai asks.  
  
Kenma holds his breath.  
  
Kuroo murmurs " _worse_."  
  
.  
  
The next time Kenma gets the courage to raise his head to meet Tetsuro's gaze, the lord is looking away. He watches the lordling Kei as he and his page stand laughing at and watching Lev and Shoyo arm wrestle. Kenma notices nothing else about his lord except that his hands are empty of any ornamentation. No rings at all.  
  
.  
  
It shouldn't bother him, but it does.  
  
.  
  
The hems of his gown dare to fray with how often Kenma fidgets. Yuuki cannot focus on his reading with the Keeper's worries pouring out of him without a single word. He asks Kenma if he can help in any way, if perhaps he should ask the Maester for something to calm Kenma's nerves.  
  
"Is it about the Dornish?" Such innocence in his voice, such genuine concern. Kenma shakes his head and leaves Yuuki alone to read. Snow's tail licks the table and knocks the quill out of its base. Even this small sound unsettles him.  
  
.  
  
Avoiding Shoyo had been Yamamoto's suggestion, but he ignores it for now. He grabs Shoyo by the hand and leads him to somewhere quiet. He cannot stand to watch Tetsuro sit so close to the boy Kei. He cannot stand how he smiles at him and leans into his space as they speak. He cannot stand that Kei does not reject him. Shoyo holds him against the stairwell wall and kisses him breathless. When they break for air, Kenma asks the question that he has had since he first saw the boy of wild red hair weeks ago at the Prince's arrival.  
  
"Did you find it, Shoyo? I sent you to Sunspear following a dream, but did you find it?"  
  
Shoyo bites his lip and seems unsure of his answer. Kenma remembers sitting together two years past with the little wildling girl between them. She had fallen asleep against her brother's arm, and Kenma had fought his worries by plucking at the sunflower petals one by one. Go south, he had advised. The gods are calling you there.  
  
He had dreamt it, long ago, and his dreams always came true.  
  
"Did you find your destiny there in Dorne? Did you find it with this banished prince?"  
  
.  
  
He sees the page Tadashi less and less around his lord. More and more, Kei is alone with the Vale lord, and Kenma feels sick. Tadashi is often at Shoyo's side, but when the wildling is called elsewhere, Kenma sees the page wander without purpose. His only duty is to be Kei's sight, to watch the world that Kei cannot. Alone, he looks lost, and Kenma feels pity for the boy. Perhaps in some part, it's a projection of the pity he feels for himself.  
  
Tetsuro is interested in the princeling no longer, but Kenma fears he will come to spite the Valemen if they do not pay him any mind, so he begins talking with Tobio. Small talk seems to make them both uncomfortable, so they talk of other things. Kenma finds this boy has an aptitude for politics and planning. Kenma is most intrigued by his ability to discuss highlights in policy of past lords and kings. It is not this exactly that fascinates Kenma, but Tobio's lack of ability to see the defects. He sees successes and not failures and prefers to discuss the more glorious reigns than the destructive and ruinous ones.  
  
"What about your father, the late king? What do you know of his politics and procedures?" Kenma prods one day. They have a game of cyvasse set between them, and Kenma seeks a few more answers before he decides anything definite about this could-be king.  
  
Tobio lived at the capital for five years, but before that, he was just an orphan boy in a little Reach town. He was not raised to be a king, yet he was declared so. There must have been something his father saw that made him choose Tobio despite the proper line of succession. Prince Tooru will make a good king, Tetsuro had said shortly before he traveled south to the coronation. The people loved Tooru, adored him. Even the North, who so adamantly despised the Reach, had agreed that Tooru would make a good king. But it wasn't his name on the will, and so it was not his crown. What so swayed the late king to choose Tobio, Kenma had asked. Tetsuro had no answer.  
  
Tobio flounders for a bit. By comparison, the other week he spoke so easily in front of Tetsuro. Then again, he had the paramour by side, and that man seemed to be Tobio's strength. He eventually manages to say that his father was a great king. Strong and good, he says. Kenma watches him over the rim of his glass before muttering,  
  
"Wrong." The princeling's face twists in anger.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your father was not a great king, nor was he strong. Good, perhaps, except for the fact that he had an extramarital affair that eventually drove his legitimate wife to suicide." Kenma says calmly, setting his glass down and inching it a hair to the right so it aligned evenly in the middle of his sight. He moves the ivory trebuchet piece to take Tobio's horse. Tobio's hands are balled into fists and just before he speaks, Kenma continues.  
  
"Your half-brother Tooru was eighteen at the time, and … the Dornish had just wed their Prince to the Lady Yui." He hums. It was around the same time he became the Vale's Keeper. "Prince Tooru attended the wedding, I remember hearing such. Shortly after he and his knight's return from Sunspear, news reached the capital that his mother had leapt to her death. Correct?"  
  
"What in the seven hells does that have to do with anything?" Tobio's tone irritates Kenma; he is a prince, and technically above Kenma's station, but he is also an exile and should not act so high and mighty when, in truth, he has nothing at all. Nothing but his name on a will that his trueborn brother tore to shreds. Kenma wonders if this tension at the Eyrie is not doing things to everyone's minds. He tries not to think about the insecurities bubbling up inside of him as he presses this issue with Tobio. The boy snatches Kenma's second elephant away with his dragon piece.  
  
"You don't see weaknesses." He says sharply, causing Tobio to jerk back a bit at the way the otherwise quiet Keeper speaks. His words are harsh, perhaps too harsh. But the boy must learn. "You talk only of the glory and greatness of kings past, but you cannot understand their flaws. You are too focused on power and displays of strength to see that one mistake, one madman can crumble an empire. This is not a game like the one set before us; it is war. It is marching against a trueborn king with an established strength and a far better grasp of the way the seven kingdoms work."  
  
"But— ..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. His anger leaves him wordless, and he is realizing the truth of Kenma's words.  
  
"Do you know anything about your father's court besides he himself as king?" To this, Tobio shakes his head. "And what about Tooru's court? Who comprises his small council?"  
  
"Well, … ser Hajime is the Hand of the King."  
  
"Do you think it's only the two of them? What about his Master of Laws?" Tobio grits his teeth in frustration and shakes his head. He is still mad, Kenma knows, but he is listening. "That is Lord Irihata, the former Hand. His Master of Ships and Master of Coin have served for years. His Lord Commander is ser Mizoguchi, a knight of eighteen years now who was knighted in the bloody Northern War. His Master of Whisperers is Lord Hanamaki, surely you who lived at this court for five years should know these names."  
  
"I knew Ser Mizoguchi, and I know Takahiro. He is one of Tooru's closest friends." Kenma frowns at this pathetic attempt to defend his ignorance. He thinks of everything he and Tetsuro have done to keep the Vale safe and functioning. He thinks of the Lords Defiant who might have been good rulers, but were not trusted at Tetsuro and he's court.  
  
"But the others were unimportant to you. You focused only on the greatness of Tooru and the glory of Hajime. There is more than that to think of when you are a lord and especially when you are a king. You are not the only one in a court when you are king." Tobio's hands relax slightly in acceptance, but the way his eyes still burn show him that he is now defeated. Good. "You have to think about who would be in your small council. Who would be your Kingsguard? Your Hand? Your Queen?"  
  
Tobio stays silent for a few turns.  
  
"What was your father when he was a boy?" Kenma asks as he watches Tobio take his dragon. The princeling is convinced he's going to win, Kenma can see it in his eyes. He had the same look during their archery competition, and Kenma let him win.  
  
"The heir of Highgarden."  
  
"And then what did he become?"  
  
"Hand of the King."  
  
" _Then?_ " Kenma watches the confusion grow on Tobio's face.  
  
"King."  
  
"And you grew up an orphan boy, then became a bastard of the king. Then at seventeen, you were legitimized as a prince."  
  
"Kenma..." Tobio starts in a tired, warning voice. "What's your point in all of this?" Kenma doesn't raise his eyes from the game board for a few moments. Tobio has forgotten entirely about Kenma's weakest player. He took the dragons, he took the elephants. But a rabble remains.  
  
"You might not have been raised to be the king, but we will _make_ you one nonetheless." Tobio's eyes flicker from Kenma's small, quiet grin to the cyvasse game where Kenma has just taken his king.  
  
.  
  
By the time he retires to bed, Yamamoto is sprawled out on the couch snoring. Kenma caught him dueling Ryuu at last sometime after he and Tobio left the cyvasse game. Tobio had begun to watch him more curiously. His focus had been only on the Vale lord, but he had begun to notice Kenma's role more and more. He explains the afternoon with the princeling to Shouhei as he changes into nightclothes and slips into bed next to the witch. His arm curls around Kenma protectively after he sets his book down. He has passed the entire day without speaking to Tetsuro. Here, in the dim light of night as they drift to sleep, Tetsuro is his only thought. He presses closer to Shouhei's embrace and tries to sleep.  
  
.  
  
"When did you begin to dream?" Kenma asks one day. It's only the two of them for dinner, and the silence stretches on as Tobio stares in shock back at him.  
  
"I was eleven." Kenma offers, hoping that the knowledge that he is not alone would comfort him and allow him to answer. The boy looks like Kenma has just personally attacked him though. One hand grips his goblet so tight that if it were glass, it would shatter. He still remembers clearly the dream of a black-cloaked figure standing atop the dais in the High Hall. He once thought it was the Stranger, but he wore armor of black and gold, and Kenma knew it was the Warrior instead. Kenma remembers being held in his warm embrace and not feeling scared as a man fell through the bone and blood-covered floor in silence but ever screaming. He dreamt the same dream time and time again, with some details becoming clearer and some becoming more muddled. The sweetsleep his father had given him made him too weak and drowsy to fight the dreams for days.  
  
Tetsuro's father carried a cup of nightshade one day instead.  
  
It was that day Kenma dreamt the Warrior wore Tetsuro's face. It was that day the goblets were switched.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." The boy grits out as he slams his cup down and hurries to leave. Kenma feels a horrible panic rising at the thought that he just ruined everything.  
  
.  
  
I shouldn't have come, Kenma thinks between the haze of panic. His hand is clasped over his mouth as the tears sting at his eyes. He had come to ask Tetsuro their plan for the boy king. He had decided to support Tobio, to pursue this claim to the Iron Throne and wanted to know what Tetsuro had decided as well. He shouldn't have gone searching, he shouldn't have.  
  
Tetsuro has the Yronwood boy pressed against the door to his solar, hands cupping his face as their lips are only inches apart. Kei's back is pressed against the wall, but he arches closer when Tetsuro presses a knee between his legs. Kenma feels his heart race despite the fact that it's breaking.  
  
" _Kei_ —" Tetsuro murmurs, and, gods, Kenma wishes he could've forced himself to look away, but he needed to see. He needed to see that this betrayal was indeed true. Tetsuro presses his lips to the Dornish boy's. Kenma knows the warmth of Tetsuro's embrace, knows how his lips feel on his own skin. His stomach lurches when the boy begins to kiss back. Kei grips the robes of the Vale lord and pulls him closer with a groan. Tetsuro begins to move his hands to the boy's waist, and Kenma forces himself to run away. He runs as quietly as he can, and then once he's out of earshot, away from the sounds of Kei's moan or Tetsuro's whispering, he sprints. As soon as he hits open air, he races to the edge of the balcony and grabs tight, heaving everything he'd eaten that day. Heaving sobs and grief and trying to vomit out his heart so he can't feel the jagged shards crumbling away inside his chest. He cannot believe what he just witnessed.  
  
.  
  
Kenma cannot focus on the sparring matches. It is supposed to be a joyous thing, to celebrate the two lords finally being in accordance with one another. It is supposed to be an easy day of fun, but Kenma's stomach still hurts from hurling the night before and his body aches after a sleepless night. Even Shouhei's potions wouldn't stay down, and he spent most of the night weeping as the witch combed his thin fingers through Kenma's hair, and Yamamoto held them both.  
  
He claps when Yamamoto is finally defeated by Ryuu, but does not laugh at their boisterous declarations to battle once more. They are escorted off the yard by a chuckling Kai and Asahi who insist a fifth battle is unnecessary and they must settle on a draw. Kenma watches with the same dull expression as Sou and Shoyo take the field. He wonders if Sou will listen to what he had said earlier that day about Shoyo's unique fighting style. Light and dancing was the way he had described it. Yuuki comes to sit next to him, perhaps sensing Kenma's mood by the way Snow was curled up silently at his feet instead of pouncing about the yard with Light like usual. Maybe he had noticed the was Tetsuro was never by his side anymore. He takes Kenma's hand gently and gives a little squeeze. They watch Sou defeat Shoyo together, and Yuuki's sweet and innocent grin eases some part of the hurt inside. Lev, hilariously, gets crushed by Tobio. Everyone laughs as the Lysene boy laid out in the dirt sputtering ungraciously. Even Tobio laughs, but Kenma remains silent.  
  
Kai humbly refuses to duel Asahi, and the other captain looks relieved. Tetsuro beckons Daichi forward with a devilish grin.  
  
"Let's have a good and honest fight, shall we, cousin?" Tetsuro winks at the Dornish lord who laughs what seems like a true laugh. The mid-morning sun is hot on the men in its view, and all the knights wear light clothes and breeches. Only a few of the spectators are wearing their courtly robes like Kenma and Yuuki themselves. Daichi doesn't don any armor, so Tetsuro shucks off his shirt of light mail to make things even.  
  
It's honestly a brilliant fight. Daichi is not a Prince who cannot defend himself, and Tetsuro doesn't go easy on him. There are vicious moments, but the laughter remains in the air. When one stumbles, the other does not immediately tear him down. It is a good and honest fight that brings a twitch of a smile to Kenma's face. He doesn't notice until the last second. They end their duel in a draw, swords at each other's throats with face-splitting grins on them both. Kenma's eyes are drawn to Tetsuro's neck where he sees the necklace. Shimmering in the light is the fire-colored sunstone ring and the ring of jet black stone. Tetsuro hadn't taken his rings off, he hadn't. He only put them beneath his robes in shame for what he had done.  
  
The nausea comes back in full force along with a yanking pain making his chest too tight to breathe. Yuuki feels him tense up and immediately asks what he can do to help. Perhaps he thinks Kenma is having a fit of dreams, but it's panic instead. He chokes out Kai's name as he stumbles to stand and rush into the privacy of anywhere but here. Yuuki rushes to get Kai as discreetly as possible, no doubt unsure of why Kai was called not Shouhei or the Maester. Kenma collapses against a wall, clutches his chest and begins to sob.  
  
"Kenma?" Kai asks when he appears before Kenma's tear-filled eyes. He immediately grabs hold of Kai and drags him closer in desperation and grief. It's too much for Kenma. He cannot handle all of this heartbreak, and he weeps horribly against Kai's shirt.  
  
"Does he hate me?" His voice is so weak, so pathetic and truly, he must sound like a woman now. Kai's arms are tight around him, warm and supportive, but even this loving embrace cannot calm him. "He must — he must hate me, oh gods. He must." Kai begins to whisper no against his hair, one hand stroking his half-black locks soothingly. It's too much. The memory of Tetsuro's hands digging into his hips, rageful and jealous words about burning the whole world. It was all lies, Kenma screams in his head. He saw Tetsuro with that boy, he saw how passionately they embraced.  
  
"He says he loves me, but he courts another. It was all lies, all of his love was a lie, all of it—" Kenma cannot speak. He starts to heave full-body wracking sobs, shuddering against Kai and clinging to him. He hears Kai speak, but doesn't register any of the words until Kai draws back and takes Kenma's face gently in his hands.  
  
"Is that not what you have done to him? Are you not doing the same with this wildling boy from Dorne?" Kenma's heart drops in his gut. He knows Kai doesn't mean to hurt him, Gods, if there was one person who could never hurt him or Tetsuro, it was Kai. Kai loved them more than any other. He speaks truthfully despite the pain if might bring. "Tetsuro feels undoubtedly the same watching you with another. He is not so heartless, he could never hate you." Kenma grabs Kai's hands tightly and grits his teeth when more tears wash over him. He cannot stop thinking of the rings on Tetsuro's necklace.  
  
"He feels the same … watching you with another, seeing you prefer this stranger over him. You mean the world to him, Kenma." Kenma's hands shake. He cannot stop crying. "You are his everything. You can make him crumble with just a word, even if he would never show it. He would never say, but seeing you love this wildling boy has broken his heart completely. He loves you so completely."  
  
"But he... Kai, he..." Kenma stutters, but Kai shushes him kindly.  
  
"You are our _everything_ , Kenma. For you, Tetsuro gave his father the poisoned cup. For you, He and I both held your father above the Moon Door and sent him to his death." Kenma shudders not for the horror of the memory, but hearing the words from Kai's lips. They do not speak often of these sins. "Tetsuro, Yaku, and I all killed the dissenters during the purge. Even Yamamoto and Shouhei have killed to keep you and this home safe. But you slayed the assassin sent for Tetsuro's head. Is that not love? This _madness_ that means protecting each other at all costs. Don't you see that we all love you?" He murmurs, and Kenma shivers as he nods his head _yes_. The panic gripping his chest has lessened by now, and Kenma feels a sort of calm begin to wash over him as Kai affirms this love, this mad, bloodied love. Kai presses a kiss against Kenma's forehead and whispers,  
  
"Don't say that Tetsuro hates you. He loves you most of all. You are his one and only."  
  
.  
  
He cannot spend another night alone, Kenma thinks. He is not the one who was alone, but Tetsuro. Snow walks cautiously behind Kenma as they wind their way up the north tower from Shouhei and Yamamoto's chambers to he and Tetsuro's. Be careful, Yamamoto murmured against his knuckles. We'll be here if you need, he said, but it did not ease the worries building up inside. What if, Kenma wonders. What if the Dornish are to be the next victim of the Vale's curse. Only blood followed him, Kenma had learned when he watched the first head roll after Tetsuro's sharp blade swung quick and decisive. The Eyrie's white walls and white stone were drenched in crimson, and it was all because of this love. This mad, bloodied love. He feared the Prince or Tobio's blood might be next or, worse, Shoyo's.  
  
The candle trembles in his hand as he knocks on their bedchamber door. He feels odd knocking, but when Tetsuro does not refuse him entry, Kenma decides to enter.  
  
Light's head snaps up when Kenma enters the room. She is curled at the end of their bed, no doubt pressing her warmth against Tetsuro's eternally cold feet. Tetsuro does not turn to answer him, and Kenma almost wonders if he is asleep. Snow pads inside with a soft greeting meowl; they are otherwise alone. Light climbs off the bed gracefully to come wind herself around Snow and bump their noses hello. Nudging Kenma's hand, she greets him hello too.  
  
Tetsuro only turns when Snow nudges his shoulder rudely. He does not look once at Kenma as he sits up on the edge of the bed and runs his hands over the beast's huge head, scratching tiredly behind his ears until Snow decides to bite on his hand. Both of them do this when they are frustrated or mad at him. It is never painful, but they nibble and gnaw at his hands and have done so for years, leaving odd scars all over his hands and arms. He seems to bite a bit harder than usual, because Tetsuro winces, and Kenma instantly asks the cats to leave them be. With a soft, warning snarl, the two pad into the other room to curl up under the moonlight.  
  
In the warmer months, with the firelight still burning across the room, Tetsuro sheds his shirt at night, and Kenma sees his broad chest in the dim light. He sees the way Tetsuro's muscles are tense, how his hands grip the sheets too tight. He won't meet Kenma's gaze, and his breath stops in his throat. The rings still hang around his neck.  
  
One step, then another. Kenma walks to his lord. He sets the candle on their bedside table and watches how Tetsuro's eyes follow the flame. He feels his heart begin to race as he moves close to Tetsuro, trails his fingers daintily up his arm to rest on Tetsuro's shoulder. He pulls his skirts up slowly to his knees and crawls into Tetsuro's lap. He still won't look at Kenma, so Kenma lifts his face to meet his eyes. His golden eyes swim with hurt, questions. Betrayal. Kenma wishes he wasn't the cause of all of this. He settles closer to Tetsuro as he carefully hooks a finger on Tetsuro's necklace and then lifts it with both hands over his head. Tetsuro does not speak.  
  
Kenma takes both the rings, sunstone and black onyx, off the chain and holds them in his hand for a moment, weighing them. What is their love if it is symbolized by two mere rings. Is it that simple, Kenma ponders, but then thinks of all the little ways Tetsuro shows his love. The way he wakes Kenma with a sweet kiss, his arm offered to Kenma as they walk. An absent minded smile when Kenma catches him staring. They are not grand gestures. They are not bodies strewn across the floor of the High Hall nor threatening his cousin Prince with a fate worse than death. It is the way Tetsuro's hands feel on his thighs at night, the way he kisses between Kenma's legs and seeks only to please not to be pleased in return.  
  
It is the way he murmured so reverently "be mine" that night three years ago.  
  
He takes Tetsuro's hand in his and slips the sunstone ring on his pinky. It is small, a woman's ring once long ago when his grandmother was young. The simple circlet of black is the one Kenma had made for his lord. He slides it onto Tetsuro's ring finger and twines their hands together wordlessly. His heart beats in his throat, but he forces himself to speak.  
  
" _Make me yours_."  
  
He hears Tetsuro inhale a breath, feels him shift closer to Kenma without a second thought. Kenma must be shaking, he must tremble to the touch, but so does Tetsuro. He tells himself it is only nerves.  
  
"Tell me you want me," Tetsuro whispers. "Tell me it is I whom you truly desire, from the bottom of your heart and with not a single other in your thoughts. Tell me and I will bed you, my love. Tell me, and I will make you mine tonight." He untangles one hand to wrap around Kenma's waist and pull him close. He kisses the soft ridges of Kenma's knuckles and crumbles,  
  
"I cannot bed you, not after all that has transpired." Kenma pulls his hand free and takes Tetsuro's face once more. "I will take you when you are truly mine— …" He seems to leave the words unfinished, as if he meant to say that he would take Kenma when Tetsuro was also truly his. The promise hangs in the air. A promise and a rejection both, but Kenma cannot handle rejection once more. He kisses Tetsuro, hungry and slow, demanding all he is willing to give. He says he will not take Kenma, but Kenma will try nevertheless. He forces away the part of him that says he is trying only to make Tetsuro forget the Dornish boy. He tries to forget the fear gripping him tight.  
  
Tetsuro asks him to speak. Tell me what you want, he says, voice thick with arousal as he pulls Kenma's nightgown over his head and discards it somewhere nearby. Kenma shivers and whispers that he wants Tetsuro's hands on him, his mouth on him. He wants everything Tetsuro will give, but does not dare ask for more. He kisses Kenma's breasts, soft and close-mouthed kisses almost like ghosts compared to the brutal feeling of teeth that Kenma remembers from that dark night a week ago. He trembles in delight and craves more. Your mouth, he asks. Please, he begs.  
  
He knows the perfect way to touch Kenma. He knows the way to massage his thighs and just how to position himself between Kenma's legs to be able to gaze up at him as he goes down. He doesn't hesitate when Kenma whispers the command.  
  
Kenma feels the flat of his tongue press against his sex, and he moans immediately. His hands twist in Tetsuro's hair, and the touch encourages him to continue. He hums delightfully as he moves his tongue sweetly against the slickness of Kenma's heat. He circles Kenma's clit, and Kenma cries out when he begins to suck gently, lapping at the wetness and pressing closer, moving more eagerly and pushing his tongue against Kenma's entrance. Kenma sobs breathlessly and grinds his hips up for more. Each drag of Tetsuro's hot tongue against him made Kenma writhe and push Tetsuro closer, trapping him between his thick, mark-covered thighs. Kenma loses himself to the feeling of Tetsuro's tongue inside him, and without him realizing, he pressed one then two fingers inside as well to stroke and tease Kenma as his mouth deftly works his clit. Greedy, gods, they are so greedy. Tetsuro is greedy, and so is he. Greedy for love, greedy for pleasure and power and everything the gods could ever offer them. They are greedy for one another more than anything else. Kenma feels tears stinging his eyes when his orgasm is about to hit. He calls out for Tetsuro as he feels his tongue press deep and then drag upwards in just the perfect way, and Kenma is gone. His hips jerk under Tetsuro's hands, he presses close to try and ride his climax and, oh, Tetsuro coaxes every moan out of him and does everything to make Kenma feel the most he can.  
  
His breathes settle slowly as the heat leaves him, but his voice hitches in his throat as Tetsuro laps at him gently, cleaning him with his tongue and making sure not a drop of Kenma's love is wasted. Kenma's hands fall to either side of him. His chest rises and falls with each exhausted pant.  
  
"May I kiss you?" He asks in a gravelly tone, and Kenma moans a reply. Of course. He tiredly pulls Tetsuro on top of him and moves one of Tetsuro's free hands to cup his breast as they kiss. It is messy, and Kenma tastes himself on Tetsuro's grin. It sends shivers through him once again. He moves one hand down Tetsuro's bare chest to push past the waistline of his breeches. Tetsuro quickly tries to grab his hand and move it away, but Kenma gives him a look to silence him and says this night is not for just him alone.  
  
He has never touched Tetsuro like this. For all their time abed, for all the intimacy, and all the pleasure Kenma has received, he has never felt Tetsuro in his hand like this. He gasps softly feeling how hard his lord is already, feeling how hot his skin burns against Kenma's hand. Tetsuro bites his lip to fight a groan, and Kenma leans up to kiss the sounds away as he pushes Tetsuro's pants further down his hips. He strokes Tetsuro slowly, then quicker as he feels Tetsuro's breathing grow ragged and rough against his neck.  
  
"My love, oh, Kenma, my love..." He shudders, and then Kenma murmurs that he wants Tetsuro between his thighs once more. When Tetsuro looks to move and pleasure Kenma with his mouth once more despite not having climaxed himself, Kenma says no. I want you between my thighs, he repeats as he guides Tetsuro's length between his clasped thighs. The following groan seems to resonate off the walls as Tetsuro pushes, thrusts curiously to see if Kenma still wants this. He nods hazily and feels Tetsuro rub against his still-slick sex. Kenma wants to be his. He wants Tetsuro to wrap him in his arms and press inside, claim him like a man takes his wife on their wedding night. He wants it more than the world, but he settles for this.  
  
Tetsuro begins to sweat, in part from pleasure and perhaps from self-restraint too. They want to be one, they both want it, but he is not truly Tetsuro's. And Tetsuro is not truly his. Not if the memory of Shoyo and Kei still linger.  
  
His hand finds Kenma's breast once more, thumbing over his nipple to make it stiffen for Tetsuro to kiss and take in his mouth. Kenma keens against him and rocks his hips in time with Tetsuro's thrusts. Beautiful, Tetsuro whispers, you are so beautiful, so good. My love, my Kenma. He never calls him "my one," he never calls him his only.  
  
"Come—" Kenma pants out, having found his own pleasure once more as Tetsuro's heat ground against him so sweetly. "My lord, my Tetsuro. Come for me, come with me—" He pleads, and Tetsuro obeys. His hips jerk hard against Kenma's as the younger clamps down and cries out again. Tetsuro kisses him needily as he stutters and stops, his seed spilled across Kenma's taut stomach messily.  
  
His breath is hot against Kenma's cheek. Their bodies are sticky with sweat and other things, and his hands hurt from grabbing onto his love so tight. Without a word, Tetsuro cleans them both. Kenma first, wiping his stomach gently with a cloth dipped into the washbasin near his wardrobe. He brushes Kenma's hair away from his red cheeks and grins slowly as his Keeper still twitches a bit when he cleans between his thighs. So pretty, so sensitive, he says in kisses against Kenma's skin, and Kenma can only hum in half-asleep agreeance. By the time Tetsuro redresses him, he is already slipping away and barely recognizes the feel of Tetsuro's arms holding him like so many nights before.  
  
My love, my love, he says against Kenma's ear, and Kenma slips into his dreams within moments.  
  
.  
  
He wakes from a thought of an elder Tetsuro. Perhaps four or five years from now. He held Kenma who had longer, all-black hair as they kissed slow and easy in the summer light. He rests his hand over Tetsuro's and smiles to himself as he falls back asleep for a few more hours. He did not know if it was a prophecy or a fleeting girl's fantasy, but he clings to the thought as daylight comes.  
  
.  
  
They decide not to strike a deal with the Dornish. Daichi recoils at these words, but Tetsuro rests a hand on his shoulder and gives an honest grin. The seabirds cry out about them, and the chatter from the Gulltown harbor floats all around them.  
  
"It's not a no, but it is not a yes. Give it a few months, and we shall speak again." The Prince relaxes under Tetsuro's touch and nods, understands. "I want to see what sort of man this could-be king becomes in that kingdom of yours." He turns to grin at Tobio who, with a gentle nudge from Koushi, smiles back. The two liege lords cannot help but laugh when the princeling smiles so painfully. He is not used to these cousins and their peculiar ways of being. He will learn, he will learn.  
  
"We shall see, cousin."  
  
"We shall see." Daichi echoes, and the two give each other a firm, clasping handshake as they part ways. Kenma goes to Tobio before he turns away and touches his arm but does not grab for him. The boy turns, blue-eyes searching for whatever Kenma could possibly need of him. Kenma needs nothing, however, and it is Tobio who is in need.  
  
"I am here if you wish to speak about your dreams." He says quietly, just in case Tobio wants no one else to hear. Startled, Tobio starts to refuse, but Kenma says,  
  
"I have the answers you seek. You are not mad, Tobio, and you are not alone. Remember this." He retracts his hand and lets Tobio turn away. As he's boarding the ship heralding the colors of Dorne, he glances back at Kenma, and Kenma sees the questions, sees the need to know. Koushi beckons him forward, and he disappears below deck before he can turn back. Kenma catches sight of Kei and his page as they cross the docks with Ryuu and another few guards. He feels a bit more at ease seeing that Kei never once glances their way.  
  
"Thank you for everything." A voice says, and Kenma knows it is Shoyo before he pivots to face him. He is holding a handful of sunflowers bound with a cloth the color of the sun. Kenma smiles and accepts the sweet gift. "Thank you and your lord for giving Tobio a chance. He is the true king, I know it." Kenma idly touches the petals of one flower and nods along with the wildling boy.  
  
"Write to me?" He asks shyly. The pink on Shoyo's cheeks must be from the sun.  
  
"If it pleases you." Shoyo stutters out, and Kenma lets out an almost girlish laugh.  
  
"It pleases me." He mutters. The boy takes off with a flustered grin and races to catch up with the Dornishmen and board their ship back home. When they yank up their bridges and draw anchor, Tetsuro comes to stand beside Kenma as they watch the southerners go.  
  
"We shall see, then." Kenma says. Tetsuro hums and wraps an arm around Kenma's shoulders with a distant nod.  
  
"We shall see."


	6. the banished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... *sweats nervously* please just start expecting long chapters lmao. i told soph this would be 10k max. it's 20.  
>  y'all, comments and kudos seriously go so far. like, this chapter was so great to write and we'd love to hear back from all y'all. anything from simple, short comments to shouting at us on twitter, lmao. (@glorypaid & @madkyouken btw, ohohoho...) anywho. that being said, please enjoy this chapter and all the feels it brings. yuh.
> 
> pairs: gen karasuno pairs, kin/kage.
> 
> tw: brief domestic abuse. smut. then a very bloody scene. whoops.

Shoyo starts yelling the moment Sunspear comes back into view. He rushes up to the forecastle with Nishinoya right beside him. They grin in utter joy, and Shoyo calls out "land ho" making all the sailors chortle a laugh. The boy had no sea-sickness at all, so he had been running around the decks for the week-long voyage telling jokes and asking for tales of great ocean adventures. For the most part, the men on this ship were ordinary sailors, not great explorers, but Shoyo had listened to any story they were willing to tell. He had learned more about the men's families and their favorite cities to sail to than one would think interesting. His eyes lit up the same, no matter.  
  
"Your Grace?" Tobio lets go of his tight grip on the railing of the quarterdeck. His stomach feels uneasy, so he doesn't stray far from the boat's edge. Daichi approaches with the kinder smile of his, and Tobio thinks of how happy he must be to finally return to his own kingdom.  
  
"Are you worrying about Lord Kuroo's decision?" He asks as he comes to stand beside Tobio and look out on the sea. It is a perfect day for sailing, and the city that approaches welcomes them with her spices and sands and heat. May is fading to June, and soon the white ravens will fly to send word of summer. Tobio shakes his head no.  
  
"Is it Lord Kozume then? I saw him speak to you as we were leaving." Tobio remembers the Keeper's hand touching his arm, gentle but commanding. His eyes spoke truth, and it had frightened Tobio. You are not mad, he said in that cool voice of his. You are not alone.  
  
Tobio shudders at the thought of the lord knowing his secrets without a single word, and Daichi laughs thinking it is the seasickness getting to him. This is his third sea voyage ever, so it’s a good excuse. They watch the port approach in easy quiet, but when the crew begins to prepare to dock, Daichi grins and claps Tobio on the back lightly.  
  
"Welcome home."  
  
They weigh anchor and Tobio watches the colors of Daichi's house march forth from the harbor. Tobio thinks little of it until he hears Koushi let out a soft laugh and speak his daughter's name. Squinting, he sees then that instead of just soldiers coming to guard the Prince's party, it is the Princess herself come to greet them all. In her arms is the little Satomi and beside them stands the second sun. Daichi practically vaults off the boat, rushing down the deck with a grin and the quickest pace that isn't qualified as a run. Nishinoya is next, and they don't care about looking princely, so they sprint and jump into Chikara's arms with a shriek. The second prince expertly catches them and begins to laugh along. Daichi's taken his daughter into his arms and kisses his lady wife sweetly. From where he stands, Tobio can't make out any words, but he assumes it's a typical welcome home. He notices Kei finally above deck for the first time this entire voyage, and the lordling looks greener than Tobio himself. Tadashi helps him off board, but the poor page is knocked a step sideways when Shoyo comes sprinting off the ship shouting, always shouting. A little girl with the same wild hair runs from Yui's side to meet him.  
  
Kei grumbles a question, and Tobio says her name. Natsu, the wildling girl who the court only discovered because of Lord Kenma's blunder before them all. He thinks of Shoyo's hands entwined with Kenma's, and a gnawing feeling grabs hold of his gut for the impropriety of it all. He forces himself to walk forward regardless. Koushi leaves his side to go greet Yui with a sweet, lasting kiss that leaves their Princess flushed pink in the cheeks. He then is handed a grinning Satomi who throws her slightly chubby arms around Koushi's neck. Even Ryuu, who had been hilariously more sea-sick than anyone, musters up the strength to greet them. He wrastles Chikara and Noya both into his arms in an almost possessive manner. Noya laughs and buries his neck in the Prince's neck and greets him with his Valyrian title. Lady Kiyoko is led on the arm of Asahi to greet Ukai and perhaps get an update on what has happened at the castle since they have been gone.  
  
It is a sweet scene. Koushi brushes his nose with his daughter's and gets a high-pitched giggle. Daichi has his arms wrapped around his wife's waist and looks happiest to be home. Chikara can't stop this breathless laugh of his, because Ryuu and Noya, despite Chikara's attempts to move them, have their arms around him in a vice grip and are solidly stuck in place.  
  
"Welcome home." The second sun says, and Tobio thinks it is truly a welcome indeed. This is what home ought to feel like, he thinks. Shoyo starts speaking in rough, harsh words that startle half the men there. It startles the rest of them when his sister speaks the same. It is the wildling tongue, just as wild as its people. In comparison to the Valyrian he has heard Shoyo speak, this language is like swords clashing and ice cracking. It is strange, but the two speak in such a way that it is undoubtedly "home" for them too.  
  
He sees a movement of white, and looks past the smiling maester to where Yutaro now approaches. He is in lighter armor than the typical Kingsguard, and it seems they both have to adjust for the Dornish heat. His heavy wool cloak is instead a lighter, white silk. It is becoming of a man banished to Dorne, Tobio thinks as the knight comes to bow before him. He takes Tobio's hand in his own and kisses his knuckles like one would a king, and the feeling of Yutaro's lips soft on his skin makes his breath catch in his throat. He looks up at Tobio, and for a moment, Tobio thinks they are fifteen again.  
  
"Welcome back, Your Grace." He lets go of Tobio's hand, and it falls back to his side. His skin is warm now, and he blames it on the late spring sun. Yutaro leads him back to where more of the greeting party is and where a few mounts are so the noblemen don't have to walk back on foot. He sees Koushi's black horse and the Prince's bold chestnut steed waiting, but then Yutaro guides his mare out by the reigns. She whinnies loudly at seeing Tobio and jerks away from Yutaro to greet him.  
  
"She wouldn't let me on her, so it was … interesting getting her to the docks." Yutaro says with only a hint of frustration. The mare nudges Tobio with her snout, and the prince smiles at her. Petting her neck soothingly, he sees her coat of blood bay is well taken care of and so is her mane of jet black. She never liked for people to ride her, but perhaps she had allowed Yutaro to care for her in his absence.  
  
"Is that right, girl?" Tobio murmurs as he strokes her snout; she snorts in response. He fights a laugh at this, and pets her once more before moving to mount. Others may view her as wild, untamed, but she is Tobio's, and he can ride her well enough. The Dornishmen start to mount their horses as well. Daichi sits with his wife side-saddle in front of him and looks to see everyone ready to return to the palace. Koushi hands little Satomi to Asahi long enough to climb atop his own horse and then hold her securely in front of him. The Prince barks at Ryuu and Noya to let go of his brother so they may all leave, and so the two detach themselves from Chikara, and Ryuu helps him onto his horse where Noya seats himself as well. Just before he stirs his mare into action, Tobio feels Yutaro's hand on his. When he looks at the knight, he retracts his hand as if remembering Tobio's aversion to touch.  
  
"We should talk." His eyes have lost the easy tone of before, and Tobio nods after a moment.  
  
"We should."  
  
  
  
The week or so after their return from the Vale is an easy one. Ryuu goes on and on about the pirate at the Vale's court named Yamamoto with whom he dueled over and over. He tries to recreate on of the duels by himself, but it ends with half the guards laughing as he swings his sword wildly in the air shouting. Shoyo speaks fondly of one of the sers named Sou, and he ends up copying Ryuu's attempt to display one of their duels. Even Tobio finds it easy to laugh at this scene. It is the easiest week Tobio has seen in months, perhaps even a year. Led by Shoyo, he, Kei, and Tadashi go to the gardens after training one day to dip their feet in the inlaid pools and relax. Shoyo quickly lays back on his elbows with an easy grin, and Tadashi mimics the gesture. The two make idle conversation while Kei plucks a few oranges from a nearby tree before settling beside Tobio and tossing one of them into his lap. It almost rolls into the water, but the princeling grabs at it. The clumsy movement makes the Yronwood boy scoff a laugh, and Tobio finds himself biting back a smile while he rolls his eyes. He brushes his hair back behind his ears and notes to cut it soon. They eat their oranges and listen to the two louder boys chat. Furtively, Tobio and Kei agree to try and hit Shoyo with their orange peels, and Kei is victorious first. As Shoyo spits and sputters the piece out, Kei says it was a lucky shot, and they all laugh.  
  
  
  
They collectively decide that Tobio's balcony is the best to view the stars one night. His room faces east looking out upon the sea and the rising sun. This night, the sea is calm and so is the city. Shoyo insists on dragging Tobio's sofa outside onto the balcony, but it is immediately taken up by a laughing Kei and Tadashi thanking the now frustrated wildling. Tobio helps him gather up pillows from the bed along with a blanket or three to make themselves comfortable leaned against the archway. The salt-scented breeze easing by washes over all of them and even Kei relaxes entirely. He and Tadashi have to lay close together to fit on the sofa, so Kei pulls his page close with an arm around his shoulders as they point out different constellations in the sky. Tadashi points, Kei explains their stories. Shoyo smiles in awe, and Tobio watches in the same way. He never learned of the stars in such a way. He knew they were for navigation, and he always loved to watch them from his bedroom as a child, but he never knew their history, never knew their tales.  
  
Without any prompting, Shoyo quietly says you could always sees the stars best at the top of the Wall. Stunned, Tobio turns his head from the heavens to look at the boy. It's the first time he's spoken willing of the Wall. Every other time, it has been asked of him to speak of his time there, and he always gave short answers as if avoiding the subject. Shoyo's eyes stay on the sky, but all three of them watch him instead. After a moment, it seems his evasiveness returns to him, and he clears his throat.  
  
"Is that Nymeria's star? You Dornish love her story most of all, it seems." Shoyo points to a bright star shimmering among a band of smaller lights. Tadashi nods quickly and begins to tell her tale. A warrior queen, he says, but Kei corrects him to say she was more of a commander than an actual fighter. Tobio remembers very clearly this story, having been told it a dozen times by the fireside in Tooru's chambers. Huddled against his brother's side in anticipation, he remembers the white cloak speaking so enthusiastically of the Rhyonar queen.  
  
"She and her Rhoynar left Valyria when the dragonlords conquered their lands. They came to Dorne as exiles, and she wed the Lord of the Sandship — Prince Daichi's ancestor — and together they marched across the sands and conquered all of Dorne. She sent so many of her opponents to freeze in the north for their defiance of their reign. The king of Kingsgrave, the king of Yronwood, even the king of Starfall."  
  
"Those are all ancestors of … Lady Kiyoko, Kei, and even Lord Koushi." Shoyo says with a sudden gasp as he flips onto his stomach to gawk at this sudden revelation. Tadashi nods with that devious grin he gets whenever he and Shoyo gossip.  
  
"Kei's house of Yronwood was the Prince and Nymeria's strongest opponent, in fact."  
  
"Shut up, Tadashi." Kei mutters, and Shoyo sits up a bit taller on his elbows to peer over Tadashi's shoulder to the blonde heirling. "The king of Yronwood was still defeated and sent north."  
  
"I know, but it's still a good story to tell." He laughs, and Kei falls silent. Shoyo starts to ramble about tales that the northerners say of the stars, and Tobio nods along as he points out whichever stories he can recall. He points to a collection of stars claiming them to form a wolf. The princeling squints and only sort of sees the shape he intends. It is a great northern wolf, Shoyo says with a grin. A direwolf, they're called.  
  
"Do you remember the shadowcats Kenma had? They grow to be that big, maybe even bigger, it's said. They are beasts, but can be a partner for life if you bond with them." Tobio balks at the thought of a wolf standing as tall as his head. Wouldn't it tear you limb from limb, he thinks.  
  
"How could you bond with a beast like that?" He asks incredulously. Shoyo scratches at the back of his neck and stutters to explain.  
  
"Well, there's … among my people, there are those able to bond with animals."  
  
"In what way? Some wildling magic?" Tobio half-laughs, but the teasing fades as soon as he sees Shoyo's odd expression. It tells that it is not a time to be joking. Glancing at the duo on the sofa, he sees both of them dozing, perhaps lulled to sleep by the constant sound of Shoyo's chatter. Without his words filling the night silence, he can hear the sea creaking and crashing against the sand walls far below.  
  
"It's not magic, really. It's in our blood. That is, it's in some people's blood. Not all the northmen can change skins, it's actually rather rare. The free folk are often frightened by skinchangers, but not as frightened as those south of the Wall."  
  
"Wait — change skins?" Tobio says suddenly, but then remembers the other two are sleeping and lowers his voice once more. "I thought you said it was a bond. Are you saying these people enter the minds of animals?"  
  
"It — yes, but it's … it's complicated." Shoyo mutters. He begins to gnaw on his lip as if nervous, and Tobio tries to reel in his confusion and make sense of this. He knows no stories of such men, but he grew up in a little town very, very far from the Wall. How could an orphan boy know these things? And what relevance would a wildling's world have at the king's court? But then he thinks, perhaps he has heard such a tale. It was most gruesome and terrifying indeed.  
  
"The, uh … that man in the Northern War. The giant. Was he one of these people? These skinchangers?" Tobio grasps for answers, a suddenly curiosity overwhelming him especially when Shoyo looked so nervous to respond. He knows the feeling of avoidance, he knows how he himself avoids a question the more personal it becomes.  
  
"The _Small Giant_ , he was called. He was no giant except for his presence in war. He was the most powerful warg the North has ever known." Tobio remembers his brother's excited whispers. Tales of a fiercesome beast who walked in a man's skin. He controlled dozens of men, he commanded armies of wolves. He was death made flesh. He remembers hugging his knees tightly and staring up at his elder with the most horrified expression until his knight cut in and told him to stop scaring Tobio on purpose like this. Tooru would laugh then. Hajime would smile, and Tobio would feel at ease once more despite the thoughts of this wild man in his head.  
  
"Some say he was a greenseer, but only southerners say that to make him seem more impossible." Shoyo says as he gnaws at his thumb. Greenseer, skinchanger. What sort of witchery did these wildlings possess?  
  
"Is a greenseer a different sort of … magic-not-magic?" Shoyo sort of shrugs when Tobio asks this. He searches for an answer, and Tobio reminds himself that a wildling himself said this matter was a complex one.  
  
"A greenseer is an impossibility nowadays. There's no one of such power left... there are wargs and there are those with greensight, but none with both."  
  
"If a warg changes skin, what does someone with greensight do? See things special or something?" When Shoyo falls quiet for a long while, a horrible feeling settles in Tobio's gut. He wonders what answer could so frighten the other into silence like this. Or perhaps he was holding back for another reason.  
  
"Shoyo?" He says in a cautious tone. They meet gazes suddenly, and the words come tumbling forth almost too quick for Tobio to process them all.  
  
"Kenma has the sight. He, that is, he has these dreams. It's not like one could "see" in their waking hours, or, well, maybe if they took a nap. But the point is, it's a dream. The sight is dreams, dreams which let one "see" into the future. It's, well, it's —"  
  
"Prophecy." Tobio breathes out the word without thinking. The look of apprehension on Shoyo's face makes this sick feeling grow heavier with each heartbeat. Tobio gets a sudden urge to flee the balcony and retreat to a place where Shoyo's eyes cannot find him.  
  
"Tobio, do you —?"  
  
" _Don't._ " He hisses.  
  
Shoyo's mouth hangs open with the question half-formed. Tobio shoves himself up from the floor and stands in a hurry. Shoyo clambers to follow him, but he is half-tangled in the blanket and ends up repeating himself, only for Tobio to cut him off again in a low and lethal tone.  
  
"Don’t." His chest feels tight as he turns to look at the wildling boy one last time. He can still see the Keeper's piercing eyes. You are not mad. You are not alone.  
  
"Don't ask the question, because I will not answer you, Shoyo."  
  
  
  
He is slow to wake the next day. Groggy and perhaps weighed by the knowledge of Shoyo's true nature. Skin changer, skin changer. The name repeats itself over and over, twisting with the word "greensight" to make Tobio's head ache even in the early morning light. Dawn has barely touched the sea's surface outside his balcony, but Yutaro is waking him already. The bed has dipped under Yutaro's armored weight, and his hand is pushing Tobio's longer black strands away from his face. Tobio instinctively nudges closer to the caress and gazes up at his knight's face in the light of dawn. His expression is always softer in the mornings, and Tobio wonders if anyone else has seen such a kind face from him. He doesn't often use titles so early in the morning, he always calls him by name, but he says "Your Grace" today, and it makes Tobio sit up slowly to ask if anything is the matter.  
  
"The two from Yronwood are asleep on your sofa. Might I ask why?" His eyes search for the blonde and his page, and he sees them both near the balcony laying together still fast asleep. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand to try and wipe away some of the weariness. He doesn't recall how late they actually stayed up, but it was well past midnight by the time he had cut off his conversation with Shoyo and gone to bed without a word. He glances about for the red-head, but sees no sign of him. Perhaps he is running as he does each morning, Tobio thinks. A more bitter part of him hope he is running from their conversation as he himself had last night. Don't ask, he had commanded. Don't.  
  
"Lord Sugawara has called for you to meet with him and the Prince this morning." Yutaro says. Tobio pushes himself more and stretches the tension out of his muscles. He had forgotten all the pillows on the balcony with Shoyo and the others, so he curled his arm under his head as a rest instead. Yutaro sees the discomfort and begins to massage some of the ache out of his arm and shoulder without being asked. Tobio almost argues, but his fingers knead the pain away and so he doesn't ask him to stop. He undoubtedly learned ways to take care of an injured body from training so constantly and at such a brutal pace with the whitecloaks.  
  
"What about court?" To this, Yutaro informs him that Daichi canceled court that morn, and it would be only the Prince's inner council and Tobio meeting today in private. Silently, he thinks of the Vale lord's goodbye. We shall see, he had said. Perhaps he had sent word of a decision, but most likely not. It had only been half a month since their departure from Gulltown. That man didn't seem so easily swayed, not when his men's lives were on the line. Yutaro goes to pick at the food delivered by a servant at probably the same time he himself arrived. Tobio goes to wake the lordling and his page. Tadashi's dark caramel skin flushes red, and Kei's far paler face is hinted pink as well. Tobio feels perhaps more embarrassed than both of them at having to confront them and tell them morning has come. Yutaro courteously does not stare at them as they gather their shoes and excuse themselves.  
  
Tobio shuts the door behind them and goes to pick at the breads and meat as well. He smells a whiff of his favorite foods. Among the typical foods to break one's fast is a plate of what looks like fried quail eggs and cuts of smoked ham. He reaches for the plate in an almost childlike manner. He hadn't eaten such a simple dish in many weeks since coming to Dorne. The southerners had an affinity for overly-spiced foods and adored their fish instead of heartier meats. This is not something a Dornish cook would make without being asked. As he brings the plate closer to smell better the freshness, his appetite suddenly surges. He glances at Yutaro who is pointedly staring at the bread in his hands. He blames it on the light through the curtains, but the knight's face looks tinted red.  
  
"Thank you." He murmurs softly, and Yutaro only nods in return. They eat quietly on the balcony watching the sun inch closer up the horizon.  
  
  
  
"I won't do it." Daichi says stubbornly. Tobio feels Koushi tense in frustration beside him. They've been cooped up in Daichi's solar for nearly two hours now discussing politics of various places, and now they speak of the politics of marriage. The Lady Kiyoko watches from her place beside the Princess. While the former seemed unfazed, Yui looks unnerved to see her husband and their lover argue such.  
  
"Chikara is nineteen. He ought to marry, and this is an ideal match at the most opportune time. He will be twenty come winter, and most lords would be wed by such an age."  
  
"You will be twenty-one in the summer months, but you are unwed." Koushi forces out a laugh at this, and Tobio sees him roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. Tobio has noticed that the lordling covers himself in this way when he feels uncomfortable, particularly on such a subject as his, well. "Kiyoko is turning twenty three. Kei's brother ought to be twenty seven by now. None of you are wed." Daichi's voice is becoming a bit too loud for a proper conversation between a lord and his councilors. It seems more a marital spat by now.  
  
"None of us are Princes of Dorne! And we never had a war at our doorstep either!"  
  
"You asked for this, Koushi! You threw your support to Tobio, and that's why we began this venture." Tobio shifts uncomfortably, very very uncomfortably as Kiyoko and Yui both watch him. The Princess has fretful, worried eyes, but the lady of Kingsgrave is just calculating the risks of the situation at hand. It makes him feel a sudden flight in his feet begging him to run. He is a prince as well, though, and he is the reason they are all gathered here.  
  
"Can we focus on the maiden once more? We haven't spoken of her at all." Yui says, and she fights to keep her voice steady and not a timid squeak. She is the lady of Sunspear, the Princess of Dorne, but seeing such an argument makes anyone feel a bit frightful, especially knowing the temper Daichi has.  
  
"Fine." Daichi grits out and forces himself to settle back against his chair. Koushi tries to sit comfortably again next to Tobio, but he is too agitated and refuses to relax his posture quite yet.  
  
"What do you know of her?"  
  
Kiyoko speaks now in her cooler, more composed voice. Tobio feels more at ease when she speaks. Her home is closer to the Reach with its position in the mountains, so her accent reminds him more of home. Daichi's words are so often slanted with rolled r's and the occasional lost letter at the ends of quick words that make is sometimes hard to understand.  
  
"Her mother is the wealthiest merchant of White Harbor, arguably the richest person north of the King himself. Her dowry is already sizable, but she is the only child and would inherit the entire fortune. Such a purse could not be found elsewhere."  
  
"A merchant?" Koushi asks, and Daichi frowns immediately.  
  
"So she is of common birth, not a noblewoman?" Daichi's almost instant look of distaste signifies a refusal soon, which Kiyoko knows wouldn't be a good thing.  
  
"Yes, she is of common birth, but apparently you didn't hear the fact that she is the wealthiest heiress in all the north. The Lord of Winterfell has nowhere near this amount of gold."  
  
"Why doesn't he take her for wife then? Why is she being offered so far south? Offering her to Highgarden even would be a likelier choice."  
  
"You met him, you know he is a cold man. He is also twenty four, and probably thinks her too young." She shrugs. The comment makes Tobio think though,  
  
"How old is this girl?" He asks, and Koushi turns to look at him for the first time since someone mentioned Chikara's name.  
  
"Fifteen." Kiyoko says. Tobio is baffled.  
  
" _Fifteen?_ That is _far_ too young to marry." Although Tobio is shocked, no one else is. They were all raised in noble houses, so political marriages and marriages of convenience are nothing new to them. Tobio, however, is still unused to such ideas. Yui shrugs it off,  
  
"Girls have been wed younger. The marriage is not always consummated the first night, often with a bride so young, the couple will wait."  
  
"Actually, if Chikara will not be her groom, then Tobio would be a good match." Kiyoko hums, and the Princess nods thoughtfully beside her. He recoils, physically even. He moves away from Koushi when he hears the paramour make a soft noise of agreement.  
  
"I myself am only seventeen, I cannot wed." He shakes his head, and the Princess tries to calm his fears.  
  
"Daichi and I were wed shortly after my seventeenth nameday. It is not so strange, especially in the circumstance of needing an alliance for war. You would probably be eighteen and sixteen by the time any marriage actually occurred, I'm sure."  
  
"Seventeen or eighteen, it matters not. I do not want to marry a girl I've never met." He sputters, and he wonders how unlordly he must seem panicking over a wedding. It matters not. The thought frightens him of being tied forever to a girl he has never once met. She could be ugly, she could be cruel, she could be as dull as dirt itself. Especially if he were to be crowned, how could he have such a girl at his side. He thinks of Kenma's admonition. Think of who will compose your court, he said. Who will be your queen, he asked.  
  
"It is not a matter of what you want, Tobio. It is a matter of need. We need this maiden to secure an alliance with the north. Daichi and I were wed for an alliance, to ensure a peace with the Reach and the prosperity of our kingdoms. It was not want, but need. This northern girl is needed."  
  
"You might need to marry her." Kiyoko says, but Koushi interrupts her halfway.  
  
"Legally speaking … Tobio's hand is not ours to give."  
  
"What?" Daichi and Yui say at the same time. Tobio is just as confused as anyone else in the room.  
  
"Legally, you are the King's to give away to whomever he might choose. Your hand is his, really. If Tobio were to wed this maid, and if he were to be given her dowry, it would all be under the crown's control."  
  
"Wait—" Tobio almost laughs at the words from Koushi's lips. "No, that — that's … that doesn't make sense. If he banished me, why is he still controlling me? Why does he have control over my legal matters?" Koushi looks nervous to speak the next words, but he knows Tobio needs to understand. He knows the council needs to understand how illogical a marriage between Tobio and this girl would actually be.  
  
"After your legitimization on your last nameday, you were legally made a part of your father's family. Consequently, when he passed away, and when Tooru was crowned, … Tooru became the head of the Oikawa family." A feeling on uneasy understanding settles in them all, and Koushi continues on with one last thought.  
  
"Likewise, he controls the entire Reach and the Steward's family there in Highgarden. He could, legally speaking, choose his cousin's bride as well."  
  
"God, that … just made everything annoyingly more difficult." Daichi mutters under his breath. His anger at Koushi has faded, and only an irritation at the situation itself remains. Tobio pushes two fingers against his temple and tries to think.  
  
"Let us talk of something else for now." He requests, and Daichi obliges with a sigh.  
  
"Well, Lord Tetsuro sends no word of sealing an alliance, but he has said to visit in the fall if the winds allow. Otherwise, sometime at the turn of the new year, he and his court will come to strike a deal." The new year feels further away than Tobio can imagine. He will be eighteen by then, and Tooru twenty-one. It will be almost an entire year by then that his brother has ruled on the Iron Throne. He wonders if Dorne will still support his claim so many months down the line.  
  
"Until that time, we will gather other allies. We are considering the Stormlands, seeing how their lord is close to Tetsuro. Possibly through him, we can ally with that kingdom too." Daichi says. He doesn't seem as uneasy speaking about these alliance as he was talking of marriage and unwanted weddings. "We will hopefully have the Vale, maybe even the Stormlands. If this maiden weds one of our court, then we will have the North as well." Tobio nods along with these words. It is difficult to imagine a few months away, but it is impossible to imagine such an alliance system. Four kingdoms fighting for his claim. The Reach and her allies wouldn't be a match.  
  
"What do you know of the Steward of Highgarden?" The Prince asks, and Tobio struggles to remember the man.  
  
"Lord Yahaba? ... Nothing, really." Tobio confesses. He never once met the man. "My father said he disliked the capital intensely. When his son turned sixteen, he sent him in his stead."  
  
"Shigeru?" Yui interjects, and Tobio nods curiously. He remembers the older boy, two years his senior and far closer to Tooru in terms of physique and temperament. Both well-mannered and lordly in every sense of the word, the cousins have similarly colored eyes and similar wavy, brown hair for many years until Shigeru started to gray. The only things he and Tooru had ever shared was height after Tobio hit a growth spurt in his fifteenth and sixteenth years. Even from a cadet branch of the Oikawa family, Shigeru was more the son of Highgarden than Tobio could ever be.  
  
"When I was a girl at Highgarden, Shigeru was also there with Tooru, Hajime, and me. He has a good heart." The Princess flashes a fond, little smile at the memory.  
  
"He … I don't know about the Steward himself, but Shigeru is completely under the King's thumb. That being said, he's actually... very fond of Shigeru." Tobio rubs the back of his neck and doesn't want to see the smile fade from Yui's kindly face.  
  
"Well …" She begins, and her voice is still as kind but firm as he knows it to be. "Perhaps the mainland is for Tooru, but the Arbor is different." A note of optimism makes him look up again. Kiyoko smiles with their Princess, and Daichi continues her thought.  
  
"We are going to travel there soon to help with a raiding issue. A pesky kraken or two keeps sending their longships. It will not be known that you are with us, but there, we will ask the Arbor — Yui's father — to aid your cause."  
  
"This will be the easiest alliance to strike of any of them. The Arbor may be a Reach house, but their allegiances are with us." Yui smiles. Her family reigns there, surely they will ally with their daughter and her husband's house.  
  
"We can settle on the alliance with the North after we have secured this with my wife's father." They all nod in agreement, and the topic of marriage seems tabled for now. One last question, Tobio thinks.  
  
"And if this girl were to be my wife?" He asks, and the others look a hint confused. "I don't even know her name."  
  
Kiyoko has a hint of a smile when she responds,  
  
"Yachi. Her name is Hitoka Yachi."  
  
  
  
Tobio hears the muffled shouting before he reaches Koushi's room. He stops at the end of the hallway and looks around for guards, but sees none. They must have been dismissed so this argument could happen in peace. He swallows hard as he hears such horrible anger in Koushi's voice. It makes him almost unrecognizable. The words are hard to make out, but he think he hears the Prince as well. Quiet as a shadow, he moves closer to Koushi's door.  
  
"He must marry this girl, he must." Tobio hears the sound of a chair scraping backwards, as if someone has stood up. The next voice is most assuredly Daichi's, and he recognizes the rage easier in him.  
  
"I have said no a dozen times, drop it already." There are footsteps coming closer to the door, and Tobio freezes in panic. Koushi's voice seems to distract Daichi from leaving though.  
  
"I won't! Do you know how shameful it is that even the Vale lord noticed your closeness? He has never even seen you two together, but he knows. It is unnatural and absolutely shameful." The laugh from the Prince that follows is horrible. There is no true laughter here, only scorn and sarcasm.  
  
"Oh, shut up. It's not like that at all, god. Tetsuro was provoking me, trying to upset me—"  
  
"He upset you by mentioning Ukai, but you only lunged at him when he made mention of your marital bed." There is a pause, and Tobio feels his heart beating in his ears. It is not like him to eavesdrop, but he remembers the rumors about what happened in the negotiations between the two liege lords. Shoyo couldn't get any information out of his dear friend the Keeper and so everyone had been left in the dark. They spent days waiting, pacing that tower in the Eyrie wondering what had happened and what would happen to all of them soon.  
  
"He insulted you and Yui both, recall?"  
  
"Yes, and I won't soon forget. But you fought him because his words had truth." When Koushi spits this out, Daichi can only curse in return. The paramour mocks him with a bitter and almost disbelieving laugh. Before Tobio can blink, there's a loud bang against the door as if Daichi has slammed his fist against the old wood. Tobio clasps his hand over his mouth so not to let his gasp sound in the empty hall.  
  
"No, they didn't! He loves another, you know this to be true!" Confused, Tobio furrows his brow and wonders who in the world they are talking of now. He thought Koushi meant he himself must marry that northern girl, but now they're talking about the secret negotiations, and Tobio is lost.  
  
"Daichi, don’t you drag him into this too—" Koushi's tone edges on a warning note. Daichi is crossing into dangerous territory, but it seems the conversation crossed there long ago.  
  
"How can I not? Tell me. Who is he always with?" Koushi starts to answer, or perhaps protest, but he is cut off. "Who does he seek out? Who does he look to in a room full of people? It is not I. Who goes to him first before anyone else, who fights for his smile and his alone? Who was so broken by his flight?" There is a pause, and then Koushi grits out lowly,  
  
"Ryuu's not the issue here." Tobio feels frightened when Daichi laughs again; his tone is so cruel.  
  
"Are you sure you're not jealous because now Ryuu's in love with _him_ instead?" It is Koushi's turn to throw cruel words when he speaks next.  
  
"Are _you_ jealous that _he's_ in love with Ryuu?"  
  
Daichi shouts,  
  
"You know what? —"  
  
"No! Just — Stop! Stop avoiding the real issue here!" When he interrupts their Prince, Koushi's voice goes a bit high, and it resonates oddly in the chamber. This is more than a lover's spat, it is a true argument between perhaps the two most passionate people Tobio has known. Their passions have sparked spiteful words, and Tobio fears the argument will not end soon.  
  
"Which is what? That I will not force a pointless wedding?"  
  
"It's not pointless. You refuse to marry him to another despite how much Dorne needs this maid's alliance. You need to make him marry her, and — _gods willing_ — that will destroy these awful rumors."  
  
"Don't tell me how to run my family." Daichi shouts, "You are the only child of Starfall. You couldn't possibly know the bond between brothers."  
  
"That is not brotherly love, Daichi, that is _sin!_ " Koushi shrieks in an awful voice. His voice breaks, and for a moment, he sounds like a woman.  
  
Suddenly, he hears the crack of a hand against skin. The sound almost echoes in the silence that follows. There is a moment, then a clatter.  
  
Then, the violent shatter of glass.  
  
Tobio moves on instinct, the only thing he knows to do to interrupt this fight is to make noise, so he knocks loud and hard on the door. All action inside the room ceases for a minute, then heavy footsteps come to the door to unlatch it and yank it open.  
  
Daichi's face is twisted in an awful scowl. Wine is dripping down his face as he brushes glass shards from his hair and shoulders. Tobio sees a trail of blood down his temple. He cannot see Koushi until Daichi shoves the door wider open, forcing it to bang loudly against the back wall. The lordling has one hand cupping his cheek, and his gold eyes widen in shock when he sees Tobio.  
  
The Prince barely glances at Koushi as he say curtly,  
  
"I will be with my wife tonight."  
  
Koushi snarls,  
  
"Good." Tobio steps back quickly to let Daichi storm past him. He watches him disappear up the stairwell to where he and Yui's chambers are.  
  
When he is gone, Tobio moves inside quickly, shutting the door to give them privacy to speak. He cannot help but exhale Koushi's name in horror as he approaches. Beneath his hand, he can see Koushi's pale skin flushing red with pain. He hesitates, then reaches to cover Koushi's hand with his own. He tries to move Koushi's hand so he can look at the surely bruising skin, but Koushi twists his hand in Tobio's as if to push him away. Tobio holds onto his hand, and the intimacy of the gesture brings a soft, bittersweet smile to Koushi's face. He seems to lose the will to fight Tobio on this. There has been too much fighting already this day. So he brushes the back of Tobio's hand gently against his reddened cheek and murmurs a reassurance that he's going to be okay. The worry still gnaws at Tobio despite this.  
  
"You've only been here a few months, but … know that he's not like that. Truly, he's not that sort of man." Koushi says quietly, and Tobio lowers his gaze to their entwined hands. He moves his hand to hold onto the other's wrist delicately as he mumbles,  
  
"It's because of me."  
  
"No," Koushi whispers within the same breath. He moves both hands to cup Tobio's face. "No... Tobio, dear Tobio, it's … it is _not_ you. Daichi and I argue sometimes., but today, ... both of us went too far." Oh, but he felt it was his fault. He tightens his grip on Koushi's wrist, but not enough to be painful, just a firm grip so he assures himself Koushi is still here and okay. He remembers Daichi saying so at the meeting that morning. Koushi was the one who first proposed the idea of fighting for Tobio's throne. This was all for him, and now Koushi had been hurt because of him.  
  
"It's because of the visit to the Vale though. All these alliances, all this risk for _my_ crown." Tobio sees him open his mouth to speak, then shut it again with a worried sort of smile. He cannot deny Tobio this. It is for his crown that all this stress and belligerence has befallen their court. He might not have provoked Daichi to violence, but he began the argument by just simply being here. He stays quiet for a bit and lets Koushi pet his face and stroke his gentle fingers through his hair. He can feel Koushi's calming heartbeat under his grip. Quietly, he says,  
  
"My father, he —" He juts his chin a bit to motion to Koushi's flushed skin. The paramour looks shocked for a moment as he responds in haste.  
  
"You?" He doesn't ask an entire question. He does not dare imply the late king beat his son, but that is the question indeed. Realizing this, Tobio shakes his head quickly.  
  
"Tooru." The princeling mumbles, and Koushi's soothing motions slow to a stop. Tobio looks down in shame for what occurred. He hears Kenma saying so coolly that his father was not a great king. He was not strong either, and perhaps this was a moment to prove his weakness.  
  
"After his mother …" Suicide, suicide, the word whispers itself to Tobio. He closes his eyes, but opens them as soon as he sees the memory of Tooru's horrified expression, hand to his cheek like Koushi had. Issei had grabbed Hajime before he could reach for his sword.  
  
"After his mother passed away, he begged to go to the funeral, but father refused. ... He locked Tooru in the Holdfast for a week and wouldn't let any of us speak to him. … It's …" He pauses. The bitterness that remained from this event was haunting, "It was the only time he ever raised his hand to anyone. He wasn't that sort of man." His words taper off at the end, and Tobio is left wondering if perhaps his father was that type of man after all. That week was the first time he taught Tobio about being a king. He had been fifteen, staring up at his father's weary expression as he called into question Tooru's strength to rule. Tobio wonders when his father first thought of naming Tobio in the will.

  
He feels Koushi thumb away a wetness at the corner of his right eye. Blinking, he looks at the other.  
  
"Why did you come here tonight, Tobio?" He asks quietly. It is not an angry question, just searching for an answer. Tobio admits he cannot recall.  
  
  
  
The mark from nights ago is nothing now, but Koushi's lip is still slightly split on one side. Daichi holds his hand near his head if court drags on too long, and Tobio wonders if he needed stitches from the Maester for what the glass cup did to him. Just as court ends, Koushi stands quick and begins to descend the dais to be joined by his guard. Yutaro breaks away from the guards and comes to stand where a citizen would stand before his Prince. Daichi looks confused.  
  
"I would like to ask something of you, Lord Sawamura. If you'll hear my request."  
  
Daichi glances at Tobio with a question, but the boy can only shrug. He motions for Yutaro to continue, and the knight even bows his head as he speaks. It is a long way from when he spat awful words in the privacy of their room, when he called Koushi an ugly name and insulted the Dornish court.  
  
"I ask permission to travel with His Grace when you voyage to the Arbor in a few days." Daichi sits up a bit straighter hearing this. They had only told those who would be traveling, and Yutaro was not one of those intended few. The knight mutters in explanation that the guards gossip, and it is not hard to overhear such news. They had told the guards they were traveling because Yui's mother was ill, which, although true, hopefully covered the true intentions. Yutaro raises his head for a moment to meet Daichi's gaze after his long hesitation.  
  
"I know it is a family matter to visit the home of your lady wife, but so was traveling north to the Vale to visit your cousin Lord Kuroo. If it is only family matters, then one more knight should not matter, especially considering the Arbor is the King's land." Daichi strums his fingers on his knee as he watches Yutaro stand up straighter. His words are a bit jumbled, and Tobio thinks that he has never once requested an audience before anyone, especially a Prince whose people openly detest him. "Wouldn't having a whitecloak among the Dornish men put the people's minds at ease? Exile or not, it would be most strange to see a prince without his guard, and I mean no offense, but the wildling Shoyo is not a proper guard." Admittedly, he makes a good point, Tobio thinks to himself. Yui had said that the Arbor would support them because they were blood, but they were still indeed Tooru's men. There was no telling if there were spies lurking there waiting to flock back to Tooru's Whisperer with news. What if someone had sent word that Yutaro was absent in the Vale? What if the King had warned him not to let it happen again?  
  
Tobio glances at Koushi whose frown tells of a distaste for Yutaro that won't soon disappear. Tobio had seen the one mark Daichi had ever left on him, but Koushi had seen dozens of marks Yutaro had left long ago. Such bruises had faded, such violence had slowed to a complete stop. Tobio shifts in his seat and looks to Daichi more.  
  
"I obeyed your order to remain here a month ago, but I will not leave His Grace once more. It is as if one were to ask your Captain Asahi to stay behind without you. I ask you to let me stay at his side as is my duty, my oath." He drops his head again. It is the first time he has made mention of his oath to the Kingsguard. Tobio tenses, leans forward in his seat and wonders what Daichi will say.  
  
The Prince snorts a laugh and gives a half-shrug.  
  
"Very well then, ser. You will have the joy of meeting my good-parents." Yutaro's head snaps up, and quickly he thanks the Prince for granting him this. Tobio feels an odd relief wash over him. Perhaps it is relief because now Yutaro is less likely to suspect something going on behind the council doors. Perhaps it is relief knowing Yutaro will be by his side. It is an odd feeling, and he tries to focus on something else before he thinks too much of it all.  
  
  
  
"I don't like it." Shoyo says under his breath as they pass by morning training on their way to court. A different batch of knights and guards train during the mornings than those who train during the afternoons. Tobio doesn't know if it was the Dornish or Yutaro's decision, but the white cloak had decided to frequent the yard at a different hour. Tobio imagines Ryuu had some part in the decision if it was the Dornish's choice indeed; he is not shy about vocalizing his distaste for the knight. Shoyo, if he had any power at all, would have undoubtedly thrown his opinion in as well.  
  
Tobio gives the wildling a level stare and asks, to humor him, what he dislikes.  
  
"Asahi said he would be going to the Arbor as well."  
  
"And?" Tobio says, intentionally drawing out the word and seeing Shoyo's face scrunch up in distaste.  
  
"I don't trust him."  
  
Tobio shakes his head with an irritated sigh. The guards at the entrance to the throne room open the doors for them, but before Tobio enters, he turns to Shoyo and says simply,  
  
"You don't have to like it nor do you have to trust him. The Prince himself said Yutaro could go, and that's that." He forces himself not to whip his head back around when Shoyo snarls in response. They are friends, yes, but that does not give Shoyo the right to question him in this way. Tobio hears the doors shut behind him as he walks to the dais for court.  
  
  
  
Tobio tries to hide his disappointment when Koushi informs him that he'll be staying at Sunspear. He cannot lie and say he does not wish for the heir of Starfall to accompany them, but, as Koushi explained, he had no logical reason to be at the Arbor with Daichi and Yui both.  
  
"Besides," He had laughed, "Yui's parents aren't very fond of me."  
  
When the week ends, Koushi comes to the docks to bid them farewell, and the mark from nights past has faded entirely. He smiles, but the falsity of it doesn't set Tobio at ease. Hesitantly, Tobio leans to kiss Koushi once on the cheek in farewell.  
  
"Like how you Dornish do." The princeling mutters, and that, thankfully, gets Koushi to smile. He echoes Tobio's words and then urges him forward onto the ship with a little grin.  
  
"Come home safe." He calls, and Tobio nods without thinking.  
  
  
  
The sea treats them well for their voyage, with good winds and only one little storm when they curved around the western end of Dorne. Shoyo tells him that Kei had been sick the entire return from the Vale. Apparently, he learned this from Tadashi who had been fretting over his lord the entire journey back. Tobio hadn't voyaged much on the open seas, but this gentle sail to the Arbor seems like nothing at all. He leans on the starboard rail to watch the sea spread out far beyond them. By his side, Yutaro looks perfectly at ease on the ship. He hadn't gotten ill on their journey south, and now is no different. Shoyo seems the most happy to be surrounded by the smell of sea and wind. Tobio tilts his head to look up at the quarterdeck where Daichi and his wife stand. Lady Yui wears an odd, almost ill-looking expression, but not the type of ill that comes from the sea. Daichi holds her by the waist, then wraps his arms around her to hold her close. The wind drowns out their words, but Tobio can see when the Prince kisses her on the forehead sweetly. Koushi's quiet words came back to him. Daichi isn't that sort of man, he isn't the one who would so easily strike another.  
  
Tobio gnaws on his thumb while he thinks about what sort of man is the Prince exactly. Tobio had seen his happiness, had seen his love. He had seen his frustration and rage. He fears the day he learns what grief and sadness looks like on the Prince and how he would handle such pain. He wonders if he would — if ever — see these things. Thinking now, he had never seen his lord father wear such emotions. He had seen his father content, maybe even frustrated and a little let down. But he had never seen the storm, the passion that he has seen here in Dorne. Of the capitoline lords, he only saw such fire in his brother, but even then, he only saw Tooru's true heart behind closed doors far from the court's wary gaze. Is that part of being a lord, Tobio wonders. Is seeming so heartless part of being king? He looks back to Daichi and his wife and sees him brush her short, brunette curls away from her face. He wears such an easy smile with her and with Koushi too. Surely, he judges, a lord and even a king do not have to be heartless.  
  
  
  
"She's going to ask us, you know." Tobio hears the Princess mutter to her husband shortly before they disembark the ship. He barely hears her over the clattering of the anchor and the harbor filled with life. Even from this view, the Arbor is stunning. He can see hills rich with green, a city centuries older than Tobio has ever seen. It is ancient and strong and utterly magnificent. It will be a most powerful ally, Tobio thinks. The ship's crew drops the flat of steps to cross between the ship's edge and the harbor walkway. Unlike when they were greeted at Sunspear a short while ago, there is no lord or lady waiting, only servants and the Arbor guard in their shimmering armor and burgundy cloaks waiting to escort them to the castle. Lady Yui looks the most nervous of them all as Daichi helps her onto their horse and mounts behind her. Tobio watches them for only a moment before looking back at the stunning landscape before them.  
  
The ride to the castle is brief, but Tobio catches a good look at the city around them on their way. Their clothes are closer to those of the Reach, with only a few hints of Dornish influence, and that is more for the heat of being so far south. Their skin is not pale like the boys of Bitterbridge, but the workers Tobio sees are tan from days spent toiling in the vineyards and orchards that claim this island home. The city is old, but it is hardy and has thrived for generations. He tightens his grip on the reigns thinking of what this alliance could mean.  
  
  
  
Yui bears a strong resemblance to her lady mother, but moreso, Yui's younger brother looks strikingly the same. The boy, probably only a few years younger than Tobio himself, grins excitedly when his sister and her husband come forth to greet them. He is a few inches taller than Yui, and she remarks how much he's grown since last she saw him  
  
"I am fifteen now, sister." He beams, and Yui smiles right back.  
  
"Why, Yoichi, you are a man grown."  
  
"Prince Daichi, my good-brother—" He begs the Prince's attention, and Daichi gives him a similar smile to his wife. "You promised to duel me when I was a man, and my sister has said it herself that I am a man indeed."  
  
"Did I say such a thing?" Daichi says with a playful hum. His brother-in-law makes a noise of protest, and repeats the words "you promised."  
  
"Very well, then. Let us duel one day soon."  
  
"Today!"  
  
"Tomorrow," Daichi says firmly, but not without a laugh. "Today, we have business to attend to, so if I may—" He makes a small gesture in the direction of Yui's waiting parents. Her father doesn't seem to have minded the two men speaking at all, but her mother looks less than pleased. With a small bow, the boy moves out of Daichi's way and returns to his position by his father's side.  
  
"Lord father, lady mother. It is good to be home once again." Yui says sweetly as she curtsies, and Daichi bows.  
  
"Dear daughter," Lord Michimiya says in a most adoring tone as he steps forward to cup Yui's face and kiss her cheeks in the Reach fashion. He does the same to Daichi who grins warmly at being called their son. Tobio recalls that Daichi's own father, the Prince Consort, had died in the Northern War long ago. The Lady of the Arbor greets the Dornish couple with only a curtsy and a bend of her head. Even from where he stands, Tobio can see how Yui tenses at her mother's gesture.  
  
"Are you with child yet?" The elderly woman asks, eyes obviously trailing to her daughter's rather flat stomach. Yui folds her hands over her stomach, laces her fingers together and covers herself. Her mother speaks again, and Tobio sees Daichi reach instinctively to wrap an arm around Yui's waist. "It's been three years, you know. There should have been a child, an heir, within the first year."  
  
"Mother—" Yui tries to cut in, but her mother speaks over her. She shrinks a little towards her husband's protective grasp. She rounds on Daichi now,  
  
"You had no problem getting that paramour preg—"  
  
"It's not for lack of trying." Daichi grins suddenly, that same sort of grin that Tobio saw when he would speak to the Lord Kuroo. A diplomatic gesture to hide his utter distaste. No wonder Koushi didn't want to accompany them to the Arbor, Tobio thinks uncomfortably. The Lady of the Arbor looks taken aback, and Daichi quickly continues.  
  
"We are here to talk about an alliance. Let us talk."  
  
  
Tobio stays rather quiet in the meeting with the Michimiyas. He is used to comfortable discussions of politics with Koushi. Right now, he would even prefer the odd, cryptic discussions with Lord Kenma. The Lady Michimiya stares harshly at Tobio, makes him want to move unconsciously closer to Yui's gentle presence. She is calm, but she is not Koushi, and Tobio wishes more than anything to have him at his side.  
  
After many hours, they settle on a rough agreement between the six of them about how to proceed. The Arbor has a peculiar position of being married to Dorne, but belonging to the Reach. They agreed that it would be too obvious to cut off supplies to the Reach. There is no war just yet, Daichi says assuringly. They all wanted to find a way to take the throne without war. Yui reminds them that the Hand and his home of Oldtown has increased trade to Dorne, so for now, economics continue as usual except a gradual increase to Sunspear. Her mother squints at her when she speaks, but by her husband's side she is unafraid.  
  
  
  
Before they dine with the high court, Yui pulls Tobio and Daichi aside to speak. She holds a letter in her hands, folding the crease a dozen times over as she speaks. It's a letter from Hajime, she says.  
  
"He asked about Kiyoko, asked what sort of person she is, if she would possibly agree to a marriage." Tobio frowns as she speaks.  
  
"He's a brother of the Kingsguard, he couldn't." He glances at Yutaro a few yards away standing quietly with Asahi to give them privacy. The white cloak signifies purity and the dedication to the crown. No knight of the Kingsguard was ever meant to wed or bear sons. There were a few exceptions, but Tobio knows Hajime would never betray this vow.  
  
"It's for Tooru, actually." His gaze snaps back to the Princess's worried expression. "A raven from the capital arrived while you were in the Vale, and I spoke with Kiyoko when you returned. Now, I am speaking with you two."  
  
"What did Kiyoko say?" Daichi says quietly. Yui explains that the lady of Kingsgrave wants to entertain the idea, but not in any seriousness. She wants to know what this King desires of their marriage and how far he would be willing to go to secure an alliance with Dorne. Fretfully, Yui relays that Kiyoko said they should return the raven.  
  
"Daichi, I am asking you not as my husband, but as the Prince of Dorne. I am asking you, Tobio, as a claimant to the Iron Throne." When she speaks so frankly, with such authority, Tobio wants to fidget a bit. He was not included in the negotiations at the Eyrie, so besides the initial agreement to fight for his throne, this would be the first political action he as a rebel has ever made. He looks to Daichi, then back at his wife.  
  
"A queen would give him absolute security over the throne, especially if she bore him a son." A Dornish queen would be the worst possibility. Daichi had once said that Lady Kiyoko along with the Lord Tsukishima and Lord Sugawara were their strongest, most formidable allies. If she wed Tooru, she would be pitted against Dorne under legal obligation. It would either take away her as an ally, or completely ruin any hope of Dorne rising against the crown.  
  
Daichi gets a concerned look and whispers quietly,  
  
"Does the Hand know of Akihiko?" Yui shakes her head and begins to fidget with the end of her sleeve. "Better not to mention that yet then. The time will come."  
  
They both look to Tobio for a response, and he forces himself to breathe.  
  
"Send a raven. Let's see where this goes."  
  
  
  
The shrill sound of children's laughter is odd to hear as the mornings pass each day at the Arbor. The city is stunning and magnificent as tales tell, but her people are wonderful as well. He sees where the Princess got her kind nature, where she learned to smile so adoringly and sing sweet songs. She sits in the gardens with her cousins and their maids, chatting all day long if they are unneeded. They talk about recent events, but they also talk about their boys. Tobio recalls overhearing the ladies fawning over the Prince himself, and how Yui really wed one of the good ones. Yui blushes and smiles prettily, so prettily as she braids a little girl's light blonde hair. Many of her cousins have children of their own, little infants and toddlers who chase each other around the yard or sit in their mother's laps and snore.  
  
Despite not being at Sunspear, the Dornish guards still train to stay in shape. Tobio joins them, and Yutaro follows as once before. Everything in the Arbor feels lighter, easier somehow. Perhaps it is the way the children running about reminds him of the orphanage he once called home. Perhaps it is the way Shoyo and Ryuu have contests to see who can sprint through the orchards first. Perhaps it is the way Yutaro seems to smile a bit more, laugh a little more honestly, and without thinking, one day, he calls Tobio by name before the others. It is strange, but it doesn't feel that way. He remembers a time when the capital was this way. Boys with wooden swords and little ladies giggling at their antics. Tooru's bright smile as he, Hajime, and Yutaro all sat about laughing about nothing at all. As he walks along the old, marbled corridors towards training that day, he finds himself unable not to smile.  
  
He actually laughs, wholly laughs when Yutaro's face goes bright red as they pass the Princess and her cousins. One lady with auburn curls is whispering for the purpose of being heard, and she calls Yutaro handsome indeed. The knight trips despite the walkway being smooth, flat stone, and the ladies laugh. His face goes hot, and he covers the embarrassed grin with his hand.  
  
"He's more clumsy than Ser Hajime, but just as easy on the eyes." The lady snickers, and Yutaro pushes Tobio along quicker to flee. Tobio's lungs hurt from laughing, and the white cloak wears a flattered smile for hours that day.  
  
  
  
Barely a week has passed, but Tobio already feels at ease here. He stands on the balcony of his temporary chambers and watches the harbor in the distance. The city streets are lined with lamps to help keep the populace alive throughout the night, and Tobio hears their own Dornishmen below him. He peers over the balcony and squints into the darkness. He recognizes Shoyo in an instant, and Ryuu's loud laughter confirms his presence too. He cannot think of the third man's name, but he knows it is the second Prince's good friend who is often away at sea. He was a part of the crew who sailed with them to the Arbor, and he leans now on a column with the other two as they share a few peaches.  
  
"Do you miss your sister?" Ryuu asks, and Tobio rests his chin on his palm to listen. Shoyo hums yes.  
  
"I haven't been away from her for this long ever. Since she was born, I've held her close." He remembers the way she leapt into his arms at their return from the Eyrie. What innocent and utter joy, Tobio thinks with a little grin. Shoyo innocently asks Ryuu is he misses Prince Chikara, but the lieutenant makes a strangled noise in return. Looking down, Tobio sees the sailor laughing as Ryuu shoves at his shoulder.  
  
"You do though, don't you?" The question has an obvious yes response as Ryuu grumbles something Tobio cannot hear.  
  
"All the traveling is wearisome, I'm sure, but it's for a good cause." The sailor says. Tobio hears the door open somewhere in his chambers and notes Yutaro's return. He hears Shoyo once more as he turns away from the night scene.  
  
"We'll be home soon enough."  
  
  
  
He wakes to the sound of birds, gentle songs from their beaks as the sweet Arbor air drifts through the windows. It is peculiar to hear their easy chirping. In Sunspear, there are not often such happy songs, only the cry of gulls over the coast. Here in the midst of vineyards and rolling hills, birds sing, and Tobio wonders if he is still asleep.  
  
Groaning, he pushes himself into a sitting position, sheets pooling at his waist to reveal his bare skin. He stretches the aches from his body; it was a restful sleep, one of the few Tobio had had in many weeks. The familiar chink of chainmail draws his attention. He pulls his knees to his chest and watches Yutaro for a moment until he catches the knight's eye.  
  
"We never had that talk." Tobio says, voice a bit too soft for his liking. Yutaro only nods in response, but he starts to set his mail down, perhaps indicating that he is willing to speak now.  
  
"I didn't know how to begin." He admits, and Tobio snorts that that makes two of them. He doesn't remember where Yutaro threw his clothes the night before, but he starts to glance about for them. Before he can move to pick up the discarded shirt, half-under the bed somehow, Yutaro walks over to him and hands him a clean blouse. Their hands brush, and Tobio keeps his eyes on the shirt.  
  
"I worried about you. When you were in the Vale." The words come tumbling out before Yutaro can think. Tobio's hand still rests over his, and he's unsure what to say.  
  
"Why?" He almost thought to laugh instead of ask this. To laugh at the thought that this man could worry about him. He hadn't shown any signs of concern for at least a year since the shadows returned to the Red Keep. It had been months since the shadows lurked just beyond Yutaro's shoulder. Months since the sept boy curled his hand around Yutaro's arm and whispered darkness into his heart. It had been months since Tobio had felt that awful fear when the candles went out at night. Why did this worry begin now?  
  
"Everyone knows the rumors about the Eyrie, everyone knows that lord is mad. It wouldn't be beyond him to kill you too, to add your bones to the dozens before." Tobio looks at his knight's face. It is strange to hear these words, but stranger still to see the honesty in them etched in Yutaro's furrowed brow, his clenched jaw, and concealed fright. He is quiet for a moment.  
  
"Perhaps then, you would've been able to go home." He murmurs. Yutaro's reaction is instantaneous,  
  
"Don't—!" He says in a harsh tone. "Don't … suggest something like that."  
  
" _Why not?_ Don't you want to go home, don't you hate being here?" Yutaro stands abruptly and leaves Tobio's side with a scowl. He walks back to where his armor is laid on the table. "Wouldn't it be better for you if I were dead? Wouldn't you be happy?" He doesn't mean to raise his voice, he doesn't mean to shout, but Yutaro's words stirred confusion inside of him. Confusion and something long forgotten.  
  
"No!" Yutaro snaps. "Gods, why would I ever be happy about such an awful thing?"  
  
"Because you hate me, Yutaro!"  
  
"That's not true." He shouts without looking at Tobio. His hands are balled up holding the chainmail shirt tightly. It's not true, he repeats, and the words echo in their bedchamber. Tobio's hands tighten around the clean, cotton shirt. How could it not be true, he asks himself. Their last year in the capital was hell. Paranoia gnawing at Tobio every time he stepped outside his room. Worrying about any shifting shadows, fearing a knife at his throat if he let himself relax for even a second. His brother's cruel words, his knight's heavy silence. The cruelty came crashing down ever since that one night.  
  
"I don't hate you, Tobio." Yutaro says in a quieter voice. He presses the mail against the tabletop, lowers his head so his face is unseen. "Far from it."  
  
Tobio tenses up.  
  
"No, Yutaro, you — …" He starts to speak, but the protest dies in his throat. When Yutaro looks at him, he has that awfully soft expression that he only wears in the morning light. He had lost such a kind expression this past year. He had worn only a scowl for so long that Tobio still struggles to recognize the man he has become. They were boys once, before all this began. So long ago, before they were torn apart. Before the shadows overtook this knight of his and before the crown killed any chance of happiness for either of them. He wore an expression like this in that tourney tent years ago. They couldn't have been more than fourteen and fifteen. The bastard prince and a squire who smiled all the time. It had been the middle of a long summer with cheers of jousts and shouts for the melee sounding outside the tent. Yutaro's hands cupping his face, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss. Yutaro had blushed as red as roses, and it made Tobio laugh against the back of his hand. He had never kissed anyone before Yutaro took his face in his hands and took his breath away too. Such kindness had been gone for months now.  
  
He almost chokes on his next words,  
  
"Don't you love Akira?" The way Yutaro's face twists is an affirmation of his fears. His heart had been Tobio's once, before Akira returned to the capital. He hadn't realized it for so long. He had been too distracted looking at another. Stronger, with broader shoulders, and jagged, short hair. He wondered once if Yutaro turned to the darkness because he could not have Tobio for his own, because Tobio longed for this other man.  
  
The knight comes to sit beside him, and if he had seen anger in his eyes, Tobio would've backed away. He sees only confusion that is surely mirrored in his own blue eyes.  
  
"Can I not love you too?"  
  
He hesitates, thinks that surely he is still dreaming. A part of him prays he is not.  
  
"This is not love, Yutaro." He doesn't flinch away when Yutaro cups his cheek with one hand.  
  
"It could be." His breath catches in his throat. With only the sheet to cover his legs, Tobio feels naked under his honest gaze. Lies were never suited for this boy from Brightwater Keep, so these words echo themselves once, then twice, then five times again in Tobio's head. His voice is so soft, his touch so kind. Yutaro might as well have confessed.  
  
His heart aches.  
  
"Swear it." Tobio says as he reaches to take Yutaro's hand away from his face. He twines their fingers together and prays. For change, he prays. For this hope not to fail him as it has failed him before. He prays he is not being naive and that perhaps, just perhaps this is true.  
  
"I swear to you," Yutaro breathes. "I swear myself to _you_." His face is lit by the sun pouring in from the windows. Not a single shadow at all. Pushing the sheet away, Yutaro pulls Tobio into his lap, pulls their clasped hands and presses them against his chest. Tobio can feel his heart racing just as quick as his own.  
  
"I will be your knight and yours only." He leans then to brush their lips together, and Yutaro is pliant beneath his touch. He has sworn himself to Tobio, as he once did on the dark docks of the capital. He didn't know the meaning of his vow back then, and Tobio didn't have the strength to bear such weight that these words brought. Now, in the early light, they will bear this vow between them. It could be, he had said, and Tobio hears these words still. It is not a guarantee, but it is a promise to try.  
  
Perhaps this isn't all they could be, Tobio thinks. Perhaps this loathing, this bitterness between each silent, painful embrace is not what they are meant for. This seeming hate had hidden something deeper, something much more vulnerable that Tobio fears could one day lead to their doom. Love was weakness in the capital, but in the south, it is strength. Perhaps, now, they can be strong.  
  
Yutaro murmurs against his lips, utters little words to be kissed away but not forgotten, oh no. They did not ever speak at night. When Yutaro thrust inside of him their first night in the southern lands, as Tobio scrabbled to grip the sheets beneath them and bite back a cry, they did not speak. The other's breath had been on his neck, sending a horrible, crawling feeling through Tobio's spin. He never turned to look at Yutaro, never wanted to see his face and be forced to associate such cruelty with the boy he once knew. His hands were never kind and always bruised. He hadn't recognized Yutaro for weeks. This man, and he is truly more man than boy by now, is the Yutaro he once knew, and Tobio wants to remember every word.  
  
He moves to kiss Tobio's neck, sweet and light kisses that almost tickle his skin. He tangles one hand in Yutaro's messy, morning hair and lets his head fall back to expose his neck for his knight. A moan escapes him when Yutaro's teeth scrape gently along the base of his throat, and slowly, he rocks his hips against Yutaro's, presses down to seek satisfaction for them both. Slow, and even a bit sweet. Each touch is their promise to each other. Each kiss is a possibility.  
  
He begins to move so Yutaro may lay above him, begins to turn his face away, but Yutaro holds him still in his lap.  
  
"Like this." He whispers, "So I might see your face."  
  
Yutaro's burning gaze makes him feel vulnerable, but not afraid. Not at all afraid. He does not shake with fear, but pleasure as Yutaro prepares him, spreads him apart with long, calloused fingers. He wraps his arms around Yutaro's shoulders and moves with his knight's hand. His body has not felt such love in many months. Even when he was first brought to bed by the one Tobio's heart still calls his first love, the love was not like this. That was only a dream on Tobio's part. A silly, fleeting dream to be loved like his brother had been loved before. Yutaro is true. Yutaro is no dream at all; he is here under Tobio's hands, his lips against Tobio's shoulder whispering his name like it's the only prayer he knows. When they are joined, with Tobio's legs wrapped around Yutaro's waist, and the knight pressed fully inside, it feels true. This is what love is supposed to be like, this is what they could be.  
  
His fingers dig into Yutaro's shoulders. He bites down on his lip when Yutaro moves, draws out only to push back inside and make both of them gasp and sigh. His mind goes blank for a moment when Yutaro thrusts into him and finds that spot at his core to make him shudder and grind down to search for such pleasure again. He presses their foreheads together and finds himself unable to breathe. Yutaro speaks his name — Tobio, Tobio — and the prince clenches around him. The pace is slow, but each movement brings heat, wonderful, coiling heat in the pit of his stomach that makes his muscles tighten, and his body ache in delight. Yutaro reaches between them to take Tobio in hand and stroke him in time with the movement of their hips. Closer, closer. Tobio feels his climax approach, and, gods, he knows Yutaro is close too. He cannot maintain the rhythm, so Tobio takes control and rocks his hips down hard, knows how to grab hold of this blissful feeling and take it for the both of them. Yutaro's jaw is slack, and Tobio presses their lips together for a hungry, heavy kiss. Close, so close. The knight squeezes his hand around Tobio's length as Tobio feels him spill himself inside. The call of his name, the kiss that although bruising, is filled only with passion not pain. It is too much, and Tobio comes quickly after.  
  
This is not love, but as Tobio looks at the man beneath him, panting and stroking Tobio's twitching thigh with a lazy smile, he thinks perhaps, yes, perhaps it could be.  
  
  
  
He wakes choking on air. The sudden feeling of suffocation sends him scrambling for the bedside to hack and heave and try to vomit up the taste of salt and sand. He cannot cry out, cannot scream, cannot even dispel the sensation of water in his lungs, flooding every sense until all he could feel was the water around him. There are hands on him, tugging him back, and Tobio panics. There were hands, so many hands on his chest, his legs, his neck. A cold, clammy hand down his throat, shoving brine to mix with bile and choke him slowly.  
  
"Tobio!" Yutaro shouts, and only when he meets gazes with his knight does he realize he is not drowning. Not this time, not now. But he had dreamt it, just like he had dreamt it years ago. Instead of river water, he tasted salt. So clearly, like it was here on Tobio's tongue at this very moment. Yutaro's hands come to wipe away his tears.  
  
"It was only a dream, just a nightmare." He murmurs in an attempt to reassure his prince. It wasn't though.  
  
Tobio could still hear the sound of drums, the clank of chains and the creaking of the sea. His wrists burn from ropes digging tight, his ankles ache from fighting these bonds. His heart beats as loud as the drums. Closer, closer, louder and louder and louder still.  
  
Yutaro holds him close, and Tobio instinctively hides his face against the other's neck. It's okay, he whispers. It's okay, he says. He begins to murmur easy words to get Tobio back to sleep, and he can only think of his brother's hand on his back. The melodic whispers in the capitoline night come back to him. Only a dream, only a dream. Each breath forces his heartbeat slower than before. Closing his eyes, Tobio can pretend he is fourteen again and safe in his brother's arms.  
  
  
  
It is a joyful sight to see the southern Prince spar with his brother-in-law. The Princess sits with her cousins and handmaids, all sharing a delightful laugh as they watch on. Shoyo sits between Ryuu's legs and both the guards howl with laughter whenever their Prince would send the little Arbor heir sprawling. Tobio leans his back against a column and feels a smile tug at his lips. He thinks of when the whitecloaks would take a day to train little squires and aspiring knights. Tobio had joined among them, side by side with Yutaro as they watched their elders duel in all their glory. Ohhs and awhhs always filled the air among the constant clapping and cheers. What easy days, he thinks. He hears Yutaro come up beside him and turns his attention away from the match at hand. He rests a hand on Tobio's shoulder and leans in to speak in excited tones,  
  
"My cousin from Brightwater is a knight of the guard here. Would it be alright if I spent a few hours with him?" Tobio wondered if it was the cousin he once spoke of when they were younger. Yutaro's family is vast, at least in comparison to the two blood-relatives Tobio had ever known. "We haven't spoken since we were children, and it would be great if I could just—"  
  
"Okay." The prince says abruptly, and Yutaro's eyes widen at this. He stutters in response,  
  
"I'll stay if you please." He hears the Dornish holler some more, and he knows Daichi has taken pity on his brother and finally ended the match. Tobio glances once at the commotion before shaking his head lightly at Yutaro's insistence.  
  
"Go on, I trust you'll return to me." The smile these words bring to Yutaro's face brings also a bit of heat to Tobio's cheeks. Such easy joy had been so rare only a few months ago. Yutaro whispers a thanks and leans to brush a kiss against both of Tobio's cheeks. This habit had been all but trained out of Tobio, but in the moment, both forget propriety, yet neither minds. He watches Yutaro leave, cloak trailing behind him in the gentle Arbor breeze.  
  
  
  
As they are halfway through their midday meal, a knight comes knocking and startles the Lord of the Arbor with his words. A longship was spotted sailing at swift speeds towards the harbor, apparently it had hidden from signal towers by docking at Stonecrab Bay out of sight. It bore ironborn sigils.  
  
"Only one ship?" Daichi asks the knight. He nods an affirmative, and the Prince cannot help but laugh. "What do they expect to do with one meager ship? Five could do something, but one? What a joke."  
  
"Perhaps it's a hoax. The krakens are cruel, they could be playing games." Yui offers, and Tobio sees her fight the urge to shrink back when her mother stares hard at her for speaking.  
  
"Let us show them not to play games with allies of Dorne." Standing from his seat, Tobio matches gazes with the Prince who seems to grin in delight. He begins to tell his father-in-law that he and a band of men will ride to the harbor and deal with these foolish pirates. Tobio hears Daichi turn to Asahi and list off a few Dornish men as the Lord Michimiya tells his own captain a handful of their own names. He hears Shoyo's name and suddenly blurts out,  
  
"And I." The Arbor Lord starts to protest, insiting — Your Grace — that such a thing is unnecessary. Tobio shakes his head and stares at Daichi without moving.  
  
"Prince Daichi, you know I can fight as well as any of your guards. If you allow Shoyo to go, then I ought to be able to as well." As Tobio speaks, Yui gently puts her hand on her husband's own. She speaks to him in microgestures that Tobio could not hope to understand. Only couples of such trust can speak this way, and Tobio thinks of his own brother and his knight.  
  
Let me prove to you, he begs in silence. Let me prove that I am worthy to wield a blade and fight for my own crown.  
  
"Very well, follow Asahi to the armory then." When Yui squeezes Daichi's hand and flashed Tobio a hint of a grin, her mother erupts.  
  
"This is preposterous. He is a prince not a knight—" She is quickly cut off,  
  
"He is a _king_ , good mother, and he will decide for himself."  
  
  
  
Shoyo whines halfway to the harbor about how Tobio will steal his thunder. Ryuu's loud laughter rings throughout the air and the Arbor guards smile along.  
  
"What thunder is there to steal? You can barely hold your own in a fight." Tobio says smirking, and Shoyo tries to kick at him, but his foot tangles in the stirrup of his horse and causes the guards to laugh once more. A string of swears follows, and Tobio glances out at the blue seas and the single, approaching longship.  
  
  
  
The oars slap against the surface at a lazy pace, and Ryuu leans over to whisper how perhaps the ironborn have come to surrender if they're showing pathetic rowing. Asahi and the lieutenant from the Arbor guard approach first while Shoyo is stifling a laugh. The lone longship comes to a slow stop, bumping along the wooden dock. The guard follows in order behind Ryuu whose hands come to rest on his hips in expectation. A larger, grander Arbor ship stands across the dock blocking most of the sun with her sails. It only just landed an hour before this longship.  
  
Asahi asks who the captain of the ship and their reason for docking here, but Tobio is counting oars.  
  
"I thought it took at least thirty to man a longship. There are only … nine men aboard that ship." He notes, and Shoyo leans to try and count as well. The lieutenant standing next to Asahi suddenly jerks forward to climb the shorter ship.  
  
"These are no ironborn, these are men of our fleet—" They hear him say, but then they are all distracted by the sudden clatter of boots above them. Squinting upwards towards the tall Arbor ship, Tobio sees a man with half-blonde hair and a violent grin standing on the railing. Maybe twenty or so men gather behind him and leer over, boots slamming into the rails as their weapons shine in the sun.  
  
"Give us the bastard prince." The man calls out, causing Shoyo to instinctively move closer and the Dornishmen to glance Tobio's way. The pirate's eyes lock onto Tobio, and he realizes his demand was a ploy to give away which among them is the princeling. That violent grin sends terror through them all.  
  
"Nevermind. We'll just take him." The captain laughs, then barks out a battle cry,  
  
" _Get him!_ "  
  
  
  
Vaulting off the ship's railing, the ironmen clatter down onto the deck where the guards stand and, gods, Tobio realizes they are only twenty three men strong. They are almost even in numbers, but as soon as a lithe brunet hurls his axe and splits the skull of an Arbor guard, they stand only twenty two in count.  
  
"Protect His Grace!" Asahi shouts over the noise. He and the lieutenant are trapped with ten men between them and the others. The other half of the ironmen are blocking any escape back down the dock and towards the city. Every man draws his blade and raises his shield.  
  
The krakens cry out and charge.  
  
  
  
Tobio has never heard such an awful sound as a man being cleaved in half. He will not soon forget.  
  
  
  
A bull of a man, a bear with beady eyes charges through five men to heave his ax down at Tobio. Two Dornishmen in their light armor manage to cross blades and stop the blow, shouting at Tobio to flee. He has nowhere to go.  
  
  
  
Shoyo yanks him close just as the boy's needle thin sword goes through a man's neck. He gargles for air as blood spews forth from the wound, and as Tobio turns his head towards Shoyo, he catches sight of another oncoming attack.  
  
"Duck!" He cries out as the longsword swings at Shoyo's neck height. Tobio pulls Shoyo down into a crouch with him, and in their defense, Shoyo stabs his sword through the man's knee, crippling him with an strangled cry.  
  
"Swim." Shoyo exhales in the space between them, and Tobio nods instantly. They stand and begin to sprint through the smallest clearing of men towards the sea between the dock and the Arbor ship, but a falling body blocks their way. Tobio recognizes the Dornish guard and jerks away from the sight. The short pirate girl who stands in their way slams her boot into the Dornishman's chest and uses it to leverage the axe out of his chest.  
  
"You're coming with us." A voice sounds directly behind them. Tobio whips around in time to raise his blade in defense. The boy with mismatched hair grins down at Tobio from a looming height, undoubtedly proud to have used their hesitation in the sight of death to gain the element of surprise.  
  
Tobio hears Ryuu shouting their names as the boy knocks him down. He sweeps the boy's legs out from underneath him and sends him sprawling. Shoyo and the girl are at odds. Her blade just barely misses his shoulder, and she twists away from his stab. Tobio forfeits his blade to wrap his hands around the pirate boy's neck and squeeze as he comes to kneel above the stranger. The panic makes his breath come in bursts, and the boy's eyes go wide in fright. Sick, Tobio thinks he cannot be older than fifteen.  
  
He tightens his grip even more.  
  
  
  
A sword comes crashing into his ribcage.  
  
  
  
Coughing violently, Tobio sputters up pain and aching as a hand comes to hold his side. The chainmail blocked any open wounds, but the force was enough to knock him off the pirate boy. A man with messy black hair and a hauntingly cool smirk heaves the boy to his feet and then approaches when Tobio kneels in pain.  
  
A charging Dornishman from behind distracts the black-haired pirate enough for Tobio to stagger to his feet. Shoyo makes eye contact for a brief moment and, in fright, Tobio thought his eyes were white. The wildling snatches the girl's hand ax away somehow and, flipping it in his grip, brings it down to hack into her thigh. She shrieks loud enough for half the men to cringe, and the pirate boy immediately barrels into Shoyo to get him away from the girl.  
  
The Dornishman fighting the raven-headed man falls, blood streaming from the gaping wound in the center of his chest that cut straight through.  
  
Shoyo hangs halfway off the docks, wrestling with the other boy.  
  
  
  
He finds his sword again and holds on for dear life.  
  
  
  
" _Get the damned boy and let's go!_ "  
  
  
  
Asahi's arm is coated in blood after he rips a hand ax out of his shoulder. Tobio can see it didn't go too deep, but it enraged the captain enough for him to grab the ironborn's head and twist. Hard.  
  
"Protect Tobio, damnit!" He bellows as the princeling parries an attack from his immediate left. Ryuu is facing the brunet who has a twisted laugh. Shoyo kicks with all his might and sends the pirate boy into the waters below. Tobio grabs his hand and yanks him upright.  
  
Half of the men have fallen.  
  
  
  
Swords are meant to sing. The man with white hair and the body of a beast makes every hit a dull and sick noise of his battle ax hitting flesh. He alone must be responsible for half the Dornish dead. Ryuu shouts at Shoyo to get out of here with Tobio. The pathway is clear enough that they could flee. They see Ryuu struggle to come to their aid. Asahi is dueling the raven-haired and blonde captain both at once. The white haired monster comes for them.  
  
  
  
Shoyo screams,  
  
" _RUN!_ "  
  
The beastly ironborn swings.  
  
  
  
The Dornish forged steel of Ryuu's blade barely stands against the dense iron of this man's ax. He orders Shoyo to flee with the prince, and Tobio wastes no time grabbing Shoyo's hand to run. Suddenly, Shoyo is torn away from him by the now-scowling brunet. In coming to their aid, Ryuu abandoned his fight with him and left them wide open. Twisting Shoyo around to face Tobio, the pirate brings his hand ax to the wildling's neck. Tobio jerks forward to fight, but the man presses the blade just enough to break skin and make Shoyo bleed.  
  
"Surrender yourself to us, boy." He snarls, and Tobio faintly hears Asahi shouting. He's managed to throw the captain and the raven away from him and sprints quickly to snatch Tobio away from the pirate's range. He fights on instinct, fights because Shoyo's eyes go wide with fear.  
  
"Half the crew is dead and our navigator wounded— grab that one and go!" The raven shouts, waving the men to return to where the nine Arbor men are still their captives. The captain had gathered the injured girl into his arms and quickly climbs aboard their longship.  
  
The brunet scowls.  
  
"You'll have to do." He says through bared teeth and begins to drag Shoyo towards the ship, ax still kept to his neck. The boy glances frantically between his fellow Dornishmen as Tobio fights to go tear Shoyo from the pirate's arms.  
  
Let him go, Tobio wants to scream, but his throat is tight and will not sound a single thing. Let him go, Tobio wants to beg.  
  
"SHOYO!" Ryuu shoves away from the beast of a man and takes two steps. Only two steps.  
  
  
  
" _RYUU!_ " Shoyo screams. He breaks.  
  
The white beast had swung his battle axe to protect his fellow ironman.  
  
Tobio feels sick.  
  
  
  
Shoyo wails.  
  
  
  
Blood pours onto the dock below them as Ryuu sputters and chokes on his breath. The axe is buried deep in his gut, and Ryuu struggles to grab the opposite side of the blade, holding his enemy in place despite the pain.  
  
"Give..." He starts, and his hand goes red from gripping so tight. With every ounce of strength he has, he raises his blade and drives it straight into the other's shoulder. The man grunts, an almost howl escapes him.  
  
Ryuu wheezes,  
  
" _Give Shoyo back_."  
  
The man looks once at his partner holding the weeping and struggling wildling boy. Without a word, he thrusts his blade a bit more, twists it just enough to surely tear up his insides. Ryuu cries out, but he doesn't let go.  
  
"Let's go, damnit!" The iron captain shouts, and his men obey. Raising his gauntleted fist, the beast slams into Ryuu's chest and dislodges him from the ax's bloodied blade.  
  
Asahi's grip on Tobio tightens as he fights not to go forth and immediately aid his lieutenant and friend. Choking on his breath, Ryuu falls.  
  
Tobio digs his nails into Asahi's arms as despair wracks them both.  
  
"NO!" Shoyo's cry is cut off midway when the brunet knocks him over the head with the butt of his hand ax. He heaves Shoyo's limp body up and heaves him on board the ship. The white-haired beast rips Ryuu's blade from his shoulder and throws it to the deck beside his bleeding form.  
  
Two dozen oars move against the sea, and Tobio can only watch the longship disappear quickly from the bay, utterly hopeless.  
  
  
  
It is the white that makes him break. What an awful contrast to the red staining Asahi's garments, leaking through the captain's cloak used to clench his wound shut.  
  
Just make it to the castle, just make it to the castle, Asahi had whispered as Ryuu clutched at him in pain.  
  
What happened?  
  
Get the Maester.  
  
Tobio.  
  
The prince stares blankly. He doesn't know who is talking, but the white makes him break. He remembers Shoyo's screams. He remembers the sick sound of that battle ax tearing into Ryuu's flesh.  
  
Someone grabs his face, and Tobio snatches their wrists away and tries to run. The other is too strong, he grabs Tobio, yanks him back and cups his face, won't let go.  
  
" _Tobio!_ " Hajime shouts, and the boy raises his fist to slam into the knight's silver breastplate. He wants to scream. He hears his name called once, twice more, and the way Hajime's voice breaks sounds like he's just a boy. Wide-eyed, Tobio suddenly stops and stares at the Hand. Only, it's Yutaro.  
  
"Tobio, tell me you're okay—" He lowers his voice to a whisper. Panic floods his every touch, and as soon as Tobio stopped struggling, he begins to stroke the other's cheek, touching his neck, his shoulders, checking him over for injuries. "I need to know you're okay." He exhales, and Tobio responds almost inaudibly,  
  
"I'm okay." He's not however. He's not okay at all, and he wonders if any of them are okay. Shoyo is gone. Ryuu is bleeding in Asahi's arms.  
  
"Where were you?!" Whipping his head around, Tobio sees Daichi storming up to them. He shoves Tobio away from the whitecloak with one hand and grabs the boy roughly.  
  
"Where the hell were you? He is your prince, you are his knight. Where in god's name were you when he needed you?" His anger is fearsome, and Yutaro certainly trembles. He stutters to find an answer to satisfy the Prince but is interrupted.  
  
"Daichi!" Asahi snaps. Nishinoya is kneeling beside him as they lay Ryuu onto the cot rushed out by the Maester's assistant. Tobio sees Noya touch Ryuu's wound gingerly and cringe. "Now is not the time."  
  
  
  
They rush as quickly as they can without jostling Ryuu to the Maester's office. The Princess finds them halfway and covers a scream at the sight.  
  
  
  
"What do you mean you can't?" Daichi yells at the shaking, old Maester. He is going on sixty or seventy at least, and he croaks that he hasn't performed such a surgery in decades. Yutaro slips his hand into Tobio's, and Tobio immediately squeezes tight.  
  
  
  
From where they are knelt whispering to Ryuu in frantic tones, Noya looks up.  
  
"I can."  
  
The room is silent for too long as Daichi looks between Noya and Ryuu, then Ryuu and Asahi. He swallows hard and nods.  
  
"Do it."  
  
  
  
Without spilling the water over, the Maester's assistant fills a basin full of clean, crystal water. Nishinoya scrubs their hands furiously under the water while watching Ryuu's breathing. His chest rises and falls, but not without a groan and then, suddenly, he sputters and begins to cough blood.  
  
"The blade didn't pierce his stomach though?" Daichi snaps, and Noya looks as pale as ever. Their hands freeze and panic washes over everyone in the room. Even Tobio, with hardly any medical knowledge at all, knows that coughing blood is a bad sign.  
  
"They must've broken his ribs." The shadow stands silent for a long moment, just watching and observing their friend. The tension in the room is suffocating, and Tobio is glad for Yuutaro's hand keeping him steady. Ryuu grabs the table beneath him and begs the gods to help him.  
  
"Do something!" Daichi yells, and they yell straight back in a panicked voice.  
  
"I'm about to stick my hands into my best friend's gut, so that he won't fucking die! I am doing something, god damnit." Tobio can see their hands trembling as they dry them and stand above Ryuu's body. They stutter for a moment about what materials they need, and the old Maester and his assistant stand waiting.  
  
"I need, uh …" Their foot bounces up and down nervously. Ryuu grits out another moan. "Uh … Wine. Boiled wine and wine for him to drink. Needle, thread, cloth to wrap the wound. More clean water, a knife and a set of clamps. Yarrow, myrrh, and … opium."  
  
"Opium?" Daichi asks.  
  
"Just in case the wine doesn't dull the pain. He'll need something, anything. This … this is going to hurt." The Maester nods and sends his assistant off to fetch wine to boil while he digs through the cabinets for all that Noya asked. Ryuu reaches weakly for Noya who comes immediately down to his level to hear him speak.  
  
"You … Don't let the Stranger get their hands on me." He rasps out, and Noya thumbs away the blood at his mouth with a weak smile.  
  
"Chikara will kill me if I do, but worry not. They're not getting you today." At this, Ryuu seems to try to laugh, but he just coughs more and turns his head to spit up blood to the side of him. He swears under his breath, and Tobio feels Yutaro's hand tighten on his shoulder.  
  
"I need a, uh... um …. a needle, but longer and hollow." They say, turning back to the Maester's assistant who comes rushing back in with wine to heat over the fire. He nods furiously and begins to search along with his master. Asahi quietly asks what that's for, and Noya grimaces when they explain they need to drain the blood in Ryuu's lungs caused by the broken ribs. Yui gets sick.  
  
"Who, um. Who has thin hands? I need someone with thin hands." Noya glances about frantically, looking at everyone's hands before staring directly at Tobio himself. Tobio begins to shake his head and utter a refusal, but Daichi commands him to come closer.  
  
"Why can't you do it? Your hands are best suited." The princeling asks, and he prays the fear doesn't show in his voice. Ryuu's blood is everywhere by now, and the smell of copper bites at his senses, making him feel as ill as the Lady Yui.  
  
"Look at me, Tobio." They show their hands to him and, gods, do they shake. Tobio looks at their wide, golden eyes and sees only terror. Horrible, sickening terror. Noya had shouted only seconds ago. Ryuu is their best friend, and his life is hanging by a meager thread. Noya is scared, and their hands cannot be stilled. Tobio takes a few breaths and goes to the water bowl to wash his hands. As he scrubs at his hands, he glances up to see Yutaro's frightful expression. The knight steels his expression and nods reassuringly to his prince. Tobio steels himself just the same and turns back to where Ryuu lays.  
  
"Tell me what to do."  
  
  
  
It takes all of his strength not to hurl. Ryuu is too weak to fight anymore. He sobs instead. He had screamed in pain after Tobio slit his skin open between his fourth and fifth ribs. But the knife wasn't what made Ryuu scream, it was when Tobio stabbed the hollow needle slowly into his chest until it punctured just enough and let the built-up blood come rushing out. The Maester's assistant had been holding pressure on his gut, but all the cloth they had packed into his wound was violent red and useless by now. Even being held down by Asahi and Daichi both, Ryuu had fought. Cringing, Noya had whispered something in Valyrian that Tobio didn't understand, but it made Asahi bite back a sob. It sounded like they had begged Ryuu to stay alive.  
  
" _Vīlībās_ , nedys. Morghon vīlībās, kostilus. Kostilus, nedys, _kostilus_." They lean to press their lips against Ryuu's sweaty forehead as the guard struggles to breathe.  
  
" _Be brave_." Noya whispers.  
  
Ryuu nods weakly and bites down on the leather placed between his lips.  
  
Quickly, Noya moves to stand over Ryuu's abdomen, and Tobio switches with the assistant who comes to watch Ryuu's breathing and make sure his lung are draining of all the blood. Despite their shaking hands, Noya had been able to set Ryuu's ribs into their right position by themselves. The sound of bones sliding back into place made Tobio's stomach curl. He had only heard it twice before and hated the sound. He remembers when the mistress of the orphanage had to set Akira's arm back into place, and the young boy wept. He remembers how Tooru had screamed as the Grand Maester fixed what Tobio's savage mare had done to his right leg. Ryuu's screams are muffled by the leather, but he screams all the same as Tobio and Noya work to remove the blood-soaked linens packing his wound.  
  
"You need to find the open wound on his intestines. If you can't see because of the blood, then you'll have to … you will have to feel along for the cut." Tobio nods weakly and, with a grimace, Noya holds open Ryuu's wound for Tobio to examine.  
  
There's so much blood. Gods, it makes him feel almost faint, but he remembers that his hands are needed, and he cannot fail. Gingerly, he puts his hands into the wound and instantly feels Ryuu react in horror. It is awful to feel another's insides in your hands, but Tobio cannot fathom what it is like to know another's hands are roaming around your gut. Tears well at the edges of Noya's eyes as they whisper that word again and again.  
  
Nedys, nedys, nedys.  
  
"God, forgive me." Noya whispers brokenly as Ryuu's screams fall silent and his head falls backwards, unconscious. There is only silence now, Noya's trembling words, and so much blood.  
  
Tobio runs his hands along the slickness of the guard's intestines. He closes his eyes to focus and tries not to shudder when he hears the squelch of skin and organs that shouldn't be touched by human hands. Just as he feels the opening along the wall, he hears Daichi order someone to escort his wife outside of the room. Opening his eyes, he sees the Princess crouching against the wall with her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her fair face. Yutaro waves the Maester near as he coaxes her to stand. He uses his body to shield her from seeing Ryuu spread out on the table, but Tobio can still hear her crying. The Kingsguard and the old Maester both leave the room, and the assistant begins to thread the needle with the silk thread for Tobio to stitch.  
  
"Boy—" Noya barks, and the assistant looks up from the needle now threaded. "Take the two clamps and place them on either side of where Tobio is holding the wound." The boy stutters an affirmative before coming to Tobio's side and looking inside the wound. Noya has begun to sweat a little, perhaps from fear or from exertion at holding open a man's wound for another to work inside. He reaches and firmly clamps off the tract on either side of the gash and then backs away.  
  
"Tobio, you have to close the wound before we can do anything else. Boy, crush the yarrow with a mortar and pestle so we can put it in the wound." Tobio takes the needle in his right hand. Daichi murmurs something in another tongue as he wipes the sweat away from Ryuu's face. He doesn't know what language it is, but Tobio knows it's a prayer.  
  
"Have you ever sewn before?" Noya asks.  
  
"My mother — the … the mistress of my orphanage. She taught me." Tobio explains, and Noya smiles stiff and weak as he instructs him exactly how to align his stitches. He leans in close to see the gash exactly and thanks the clamps for stopping a good portion of the blood gushing forth. Ryuu's blackened skin looks to be paling, and Tobio works as swiftly as he can while following Noya's words. The smell of crushed yarrow doesn't fight the smell of blood, and Tobio doesn't look up when he hears the sound of armor returning to the room.  
  
Noya whispers the same words as their Prince, and their prayer is white noise as Tobio works.  
  
The assistant helps spread the powder across the wound, and they both check anything else for open wounds. The gods decided to only open that one section of his gut, however, and Tobio thinks perhaps Ryuu is blessed. His hands and wrists are completely coated in blood, but he continues as instructed. Noya lets go of the wound and tediously, tediously, Tobio stitches everything back together. Muscles and sinews and skin all being tied once again under the gods' watchful gaze. It will be a miracle, Tobio thinks, if Ryuu can survive. He hopes Daichi and Noya's prayers are soon answered.  
  
Noya orders the hot wine to be poured over Ryuu's wound when the last layer of flesh is completely sewn shut. In his unconscious state, Ryuu writhes, and Asahi continues to hold him just in case the poor man wakes. Using the rest of the crushed yarrow and then the myrrh as well, the assistant cleans the wound as best he can as Tobio cleans a majority of the blood from his hands in the bowl. The water turns murky and crimson red, and Tobio suddenly thinks of his dream. Burning brine, the taste of death under water as hands yanked him down, down. Down. His heart stops for a moment as he realizes.  
  
He should've known.  
  
"Tobio?" Asahi calls weakly, and the princeling's head snaps up in an instant. Tobio pats his hands dry and grabs the linens he will use to dress Ryuu's wound. It takes both he and the assistant to maneuver the cloth around Ryuu's thicker torso, and both hope he doesn't wake. Not yet, not amidst this horror and pain.  
  
"Maester, do you have a raven we can send to Yronwood?" Noya asks suddenly as the assistant is tightening the bandages just enough before tying them off. The Maester nods his head, but Tobio looks at the other in confusion. Daichi shares his same expression, and Noya goes to try scrubbing their best friend's blood from their stained hands.  
  
"We need to tell his sister. She needs to come to Sunspear, she … she will want to … to be with him." Noya struggles to say these last words, as if they intended to say that this sister would want to say goodbye. Tobio realizes he knows little of the inner court except for Koushi. These men were willing to go to war for him and one of them had nearly been killed because of him, yet he knows next to nothing at all. He didn't know Ryuu had a sibling at all. Tobio forces his gaze to the wrapped wound and hopes, prays that their work was a success.  
  
"He'll never make it to Sunspear." The Maester says in his weak voice. Noya looks like they already knew this as he explains that with Ryuu's loss of blood, a week long sea voyage along the treacherous Dornish coast could never be done.  
  
"To Starfall, then." Daichi gulps down his fear, tries to regain some control that the Stranger's fright had taken form them all. "He served Koushi there, and it is only perhaps a day or two by sea."  
  
Tobio makes himself speak.  
  
"No, he— ..."  
  
"He what?" Daichi asks in a hurry. A part of him fears suggesting this, but another part knows it is for the best.  
  
"He must go to the Citadel. That is his best chance, that is where the Archmaesters are. They are his best chance at survival, not Starfall. The Citadel."  
  
"Oldtown is ruled by the Iwaizumi family. There's no way the would let us in." As Daichi shouts in a hoarse voice, Noya watches their best friend's pained expression. Tobio sees their deliberation and then their agreeance.  
  
"Tobio is right. We have to take him to the Citadel." They turn back to the red water, continue scrubbing at their hands until Asahi lets go of Ryuu's torso and comes to take their hands out of the water himself. He mutters their name softly, and Tobio sees Noya nearly break.  
  
Daichi stares on with a hardened face, and after a moment, he speaks again.  
  
"Very well. … Noya, you will go. Yui will go too. She knows the Iwaizumis and is of Reach blood. If any of us, they will open their doors for her." He pauses, and Tobio wonders if he is preparing an apology to his frightened wife. This is what is needed of them, however, and it is what Ryuu needs to survive. "The rest of us will return to Sunspear as swift as our ship will sail."  
  
  
  
"Send a raven as soon as you are there." Daichi whispers against his wife's forehead. The Princess had kissed her brother's cheek goodbye and hurriedly said farewell to her parents too. The Lord of the Arbor wished her a safe and swift journey. Go with the gods, he urged. Daichi urges just the same. A handful of Arbor men and a few Dornish guards board the ship, and Tobio watches Nishinoya whisper to Asahi before almost disappearing among them.  
  
"Nishinoya—" Tobio grabs the other's arm just before they climb aboard the ship. Their normally vibrant, vivacious eyes are red and weary. He lowers his voice to ask,  
  
"How did you know what to do? Not even the Maester had such skill. Where did you learn that?" Noya tugs their arm away from Tobio and shakes their head. Wordlessly, they turn and board the ship. It leaves a heavy feeling in his gut. He thought that fleeing the capital would be to flee its darkness and its secrets and lies. Dorne is just the same.  
  
  
  
He cannot sleep the entire voyage home.  
  
The Michimiyas bid them farewell, and Yutaro would not leave his side for more than a moment's breath.  
  
He hurls.  
  
In the quiet of one night, when Tobio has his head buried in his hands and cannot breathe, Yutaro tries to talk to him. He shoves the knight away. He insists and insists that they need to talk, but Tobio cannot bear to hear anyone speak, let alone this knight of his. Yutaro is nothing like Shoyo, and their differences are so stark and obvious now that it makes Tobio's heart ache. The boy is gone. Shoyo is gone, and only Tobio is to blame.  
  
When Yutaro tries one last time to reach out to him, Tobio caves and pulls him close and lets himself break.  
  
  
  
The towers of Sunspear come into view too soon. Tobio doesn't know what to say.  
  
They ride through the Threefold Gate in silence, with the Prince at the helm. He looks to be bracing himself, and Tobio feels faint in the sun. Yutaro might have walked as most guards do, but there was a spare horse and so he rides silently beside his prince. Tobio's mare is silent as well. She huffs when they go too slow, but it's as if she knows. Something is off. Something has gone terribly wrong.  
  
The second sun is waiting patiently with Koushi when they reach the castle. Maester Takeda and the septa stand with the little Satomi. Waiting. Tobio can still feel the sea rocking this way and that, but that isn't why he wants to be sick.  
  
"I apologize for not greeting you all at the harbor," Chikara smiles easily with a wave of his hand as his brother dismounts from his horse. Daichi stays eeriely still for a moment, and Tobio can see his knuckles go white holding onto the horse's reigns. "Koushi and I had a meeting with men from Godsgrace, but when we heard your ship had docked, we ended as quickly as possible."  
  
"You weren't expected for another week. Was being with the in-laws so terrible?" Koushi's jest makes both himself and Chikara chuckle a bit, but Daichi does not smile. He lets go of the reigns and accepts what he must do. There is no answer to Koushi's remark, only terrible, terrible silence. They seem to notice the Prince's grim expression and look to the others for explanation. Asahi doesn't speak, he just sits atop his horse with eyes cast to the ground. Yutaro holds the reigns of his passive mare as Tobio climbs down, and when he looks back to the Princes, Koushi is watching him.  
  
Chikara's smile is gone.  
  
"Where— … where is Ryuunosuke?"  
  
He is met with silence. Terrible, terrible silence.  
  
"Daichi?" He says, and Tobio sees Koushi flinch at the realization and cover his mouth in horror with a shaking, thin hand. He knew what the purpose of their journey was, he knew the risks. They were just little risks. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Daichi steps towards his brother, but the other Prince steps back. "… Dai, where— tell me where he is."  
  
There was an attack, Daichi begins to say. He tries to explain, tries to reach for Chikara, but fumbles on his words and cannot say a single thing to comfort him. There was an attack, there was an ambush. He speaks of the ironborn, and Chikara shakes his head.  
  
Everyone knows the cruelty of the ironborn.  
  
" _No_." The word is swallowed by the wind, and Tobio hears him whisper it twice and three times again, each repetition more hopeless than the last. Yutaro's hand tightens on his hand. These hands which felt Ryuu's blood, these hands which tried desperately to save him. These hands which still remember the feeling of another's life under them, pulse weakening as red ran across the hard, stone floor.  
  
"Chikara, listen— Chika, please— listen—" Grasping his brother's arm, Daichi yanks Chikara near. The Prince fights, shoves the flat of his hand against Daichi's chest and struggles away from him. But Daichi does not give. Chikara breaks.  
  
"Dai, please— not him. Anyone but him—" He pulls Chikara to his chest, wraps his arms around him tightly as the second Prince chokes on his grief. His hands cover his tears, but his sobs still sound in the open air. It's an awful sound.  
  
Koushi moves just as Daichi whispers,  
  
"He may live."  
  
The beauty moves past the two brothers as Daichi tries to calm his brother's heart-wrenching tears. He rushes to Tobio just as the knight beside him lets go of his hand, and then Koushi's arms are flung around his neck. Tobio feels the other lord's body trembling. He wraps his arms around Koushi, holds him and tries to ignore the way Koushi presses his face against Tobio's neck. He tries to ignore the feeling of Koushi's tears.  
  
"I'm sorry—" Tobio begins to say against his silver hair, but the sentence dies in his throat when he looks beyond Koushi, beyond Daichi and Chikara. The girl with hair of flame steps out from beside the Maester. Her eyes are so wide, so confused.  
  
"Brother?" Natsu calls, and then steps further out to search. Takeda kneels down to take her hand and pull her back to him. Defiant, the wildling girl yanks her hand away and calls out again, louder. Pleading. Begging for her brother, the only family she has.  
  
"Shoyo?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *weeps* so did u like it
> 
> noya is saying "fight, nedys (his nickname for ryuu). fight death, please. please, ryuu, please" 
> 
> go get wrecked further by reading this post-ch6 fic soph wrote about kenma: "[come back to me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3917818/chapters/8771158)" (it'll wreck ya)


	7. the Seastone son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *loud noises* idk what to say guys. this is a shitshow. it's 30k. you'll hate us by the end. while writing, i keep a list of trigger warnings to write in these pre-notes, and this chapter just read "anything you can think of," if that gives you an idea about what's gonna happen. also, i'm sorry to all kamasaki and sasaya fans. someone needs to be a villain. enjoy.
> 
> also super thanks to my bae sophie as always, but in particular, she helped so so much with this chapter. it was beast to write, and she was there every step of the way. ;;;u;;; merry xmas, ilu.
> 
> pairs: ao/futa mainly. kinda futa/mai. moni/mai, saku/koga. kama/moni/sasa. past kama/futa.
> 
> tw: uh. uhhh. blood. much blood. there's some very bloody scenes, ranging from battle wounds to a flogging scene. torture, past sexual abuse. depression/suicidal thought mention. ... in terms of warnings, there's only not, like. incest in this chapter. otherwise, there's some real dark shit.

Blood seeps out between his fingers as the wind whips along the boards of their ship, fueling their escape further, further, and further still. He whispers the word "breathe" when the other ironborn tenses in pain. The angry wound bleeds on as he barks an order to row faster.  
  
"You row too, damnit!" Kamasaki snarls from near the stern. Ignoring the Lord Captain, Futakuchi continues to hold pressure against the wound until he can tear free a strip of cloth from his own shirt. He murmurs Aone's name as a comfort while he tightens the makeshift bandage roughly around his shoulder. Aone exhales a ragged breath and squeezes his eyes shut when his partner ties off the bandage. He prays this will staunch the wound well enough for Aone to function as part of their crew until they're back home. A man who cannot row is a useless man indeed. The Dornishman had stabbed his sword deep into Aone's flesh, almost hitting bone. Thankfully, they had repaid the blow by - god willing - tearing up that bastard's insides and leaving him for dead there on those Arbor docks.  
  
Kamasaki yells again, but before he can finish, Futakuchi whips around to shout.  
  
"Unless you're going to care for the wounds of our strongest warrior and our navigator, then shut the fuck up." The Lord Captain jerks forward as if to lunge across ten men and snatch Futakuchi by his collar. Without missing a beat, the younger man rises to meet him, but a firm hand stops him. When he looks down, Futakuchi sees the worry in Aone's eyes and stills immediately. He jerks his chin in the direction of their youngest crew members.  
  
It's not the time to argue, he seems to say, and Futakuchi understands. With a grunt, Aone moves to the nearest open oar and begins to row along with the crew. The brunet weaves between men to reach where Sakunami is laid out clutching her nasty thigh wound. The sound of ocean waves being sliced by the oarsmen doesn't drown out any of Sakunami's cries. Futakuchi yanks off his belt and tells her to bite down, hard. The wound is deep and needs an actual physician to tend to it, but he will have to make do until they return home. From his rudimentary knowledge, he knows that the blade missed a vital point, but it is nasty nonetheless. Knowing that this is only her second battle wound, he takes a while longer to wrap Sakunami's thigh. She is a brave girl, brilliant and the best navigator among them, but she does not bear the dozens of scars that most ironborn do. Her lord cousin protected her for as long as he could before her willfulness broke free.  
  
"You and Aone both need to see Lady Mai immediately when we return." No one in ten years has told an injured person to seek their Maester's assistance. The man must be eighty by now and seemed to have moss growing on him after years of inactivity. Sakunami nods tiredly at Futakuchi's words before he returns to Aone's side where a seat has opened up for him to join the crew at rowing.  
  
They row for hours until they reach the small coastal town they conquered and set up as an outpost. Before even disembarking, Futakuchi climbs to straddle the bench next to Aone and check his wound once more. It began bleeding once more, but not as profusely as it once was. He tears off a strip of fabric from one of the other crewman to rewrap it. You should've been more careful, he murmurs quiet enough for no one else to hear. Aone ducks his head to hide the barest hint of a smile before both their names are called.  
  
Using ropes and pulleys, the crew hoists the longship up onto the great galleon awaiting them. Onagawa holds Sakunami on his back, careful not to jostle her as he climbs aboard and gets her settled on the quarterdeck. Hurrying on board, they see Obara tying the Dornish boy to the central mast. Curiously, Aone approaches and kneels before him. He reaches to brush the boy's messy hair out of his face and get a better look.  
  
"What Dornish house has red hair?" His question startles Futakuchi, makes him think suddenly. He walks up alongside Aone and crouches to look at their prisoner. Cupping his chin, he lifts the boy's face.  
  
"None except perhaps the Ikejiri family?" The boy has a few freckles, but his eyes were distinctly gold unlike most Dornishmen. The Lords of Starfall had gold eyes, he wonders to himself, but they also have silver-blonde hair. He hums in thought,  
  
"The Tor's heir was murdered years ago. He could be from a branch family, but otherwise I think he's a Reachman." Futakuchi lets go of the boy's chin, lets his head loll to the side. Swearing under his breath, the captain pushes himself to his feet as Kamasaki and Sasaya come near.  
  
"Why the hell would a Reachman be in Dorne siding with the Sawamuras?" Kamasaki demands, and Futakuchi shrugs wildly. How the hell would he know.  
  
"Even with the exiled prince there, it is unlikely for a Reachman to betray their King." God, Futakuchi remembers. They were supposed to capture the bastard prince, they were supposed to take him for ransom.  
  
They failed.  
  
Their lord will kill them, Futakuchi thinks in a panic. He is a seventeen year old boy with no more than fifteen guards. The party of ironborn were thirty in strength, yet they failed. He grabs his own head in frustration and only does not tear his hair out because Aone comes to tug his hands away gently.  
  
"When he wakes, we will ask."  
  
  
  
Sakunami grips Futakuchi's hand tight enough to make him wince in pain. Sasaya is undressing her wound to check on it. He had redressed Aone's shoulder moments ago, and Aone had barely flinched. He is too used to battle scars, where she is not. Of their current party, the raven-haired advisor is most knowledgeable about injuries and illness. He had patched them up dozens of times after successful and failed raids both. Futakuchi still wishes Mai was here. She is who they need. Sakunami's skin is paler than Futakuchi knows is healthy, and he tries to blame it only on the pain.  
  
"Don't -" She starts with a stutter. "Don't let anyone blame Kogane." He thinks of the boy for just a moment, but then focuses on distracting his navigator as Sasaya brings a heated blade near to her flesh. He warns her of the pain, and she squeezes Futakuchi's hand even more.  
  
He feels sick when she screams.  
  
  
  
"Why the hell didn't you just grab the princeling? What were you doing? Playing with him like a little game? How stupid are you, boy?" Futakuchi is greeted by Kamasaki's shouting when he heads up from the captain's quarters where Sakunami now lay sleeping. Aone is instantly at his side watching the disaster unfold. The Lord Captain grabs Koganegawa by the shoulders and yells that he ought to cut him down right now for such insolence.  
  
"Hey!" Futakuchi hears himself shout as he rushes forward to shove Kamasaki away. "Kogane's a part of my crew, he's not yours to kill." He forces himself not to cringe away from the other as he grabs him instead of the boy. He knows these violent hands, knows this rage. He does not have to endure for long, because Aone tears the two of them apart. Sasaya comes quickly up behind them all, wiping the blood off his hands onto his breeches.  
  
"Worry about something besides the kid. Worry about getting home, worry about how we didn't get the prince we needed. We failed. Worry about this." Breathing too quick for comfort, Futakuchi turns away from the Lord Captain to face the sea. He calms himself by focusing on the strong but gentle hands on his shoulders and Aone's presence at his back. After a moment, he gazes at Koganegawa who has fallen against the railing in terror. He shrugs off Aone's hands with a mouthed thanks and goes to tug the kid up to his feet.  
  
  
  
Quietly, he trades watch over Sakunami partway through the night. The sea is treating them easily enough, but the crew is anxious obeying another's directions on where to sail instead of Sakunami who they know is the best. Pulling a chair close to her bedside, he pushes her bangs away from her face and thinks of how her lord cousin will react. He crosses his arms on the bed and rests his head for a few hours but wakes as soon as he hears her move.  
  
Her eyes are bleary but only from sleep not fever. He bids good morning with a little laugh and asks about her pain. She ignores the question and instead asks about the kid.  
  
"You didn't kill him did you? You didn't let Kamasaki get to him, right?" Shaking his head, he reassures her that nothing happened to Koganegawa. He swears the boy will live until their lord decides otherwise, and Sakunami sighs upon hearing this. It is known to his crew that she holds a certain fondness for the greenlander, yet it is has never been more apparent than this moment when she nudges his hand and smiles in thanks. Excusing himself softly, he goes above deck to fetch the boy who has been pacing nonstop. He sees Kamasaki distractedly arguing with a passive-looking Sasaya up by the wheel and waves Kogane downstairs quickly.  
  
"She asked for you." He says in the darkness of the hallway just before opening the door to the captain's quarters quietly. Koganegawa's face lights up when he sees her there.  
  
"Kou-" He chokes on the name as he rushes and stumbles past Futakuchi into the room. Undoubtedly, he blames himself for her injury. Futakuchi remembers how the prince had subdued Kogane and this specifically had distracted Sakunami from her duel with the wildling boy. Sakunami pushes herself up on her elbows and meets Kogane's embrace.  
  
"Kanji." The name is an exhale, a sweet word that makes Futakuchi think of Aone. He thinks of Aone's breath against the back of his neck, warm and loving as they drift off at night. Turning away from the two of them, he leaves them alone for a few hours until the dawn breaks upon the sea.  
  
  
  
The Dornish boy wakes shortly after noon. Futakuchi is leaning on the steering wheel listening to Sakunami's quiet orders on how to guide the ship on its proper course when they hear Obara shouting. Looking down, he sees the boy struggling wildly against his restraints. He orders someone else to take control of the wheel as he rushes down to the main desk.  
  
"Ryuu? Ryuu?" His voice is hoarse as he repeats the name in confusion. Futakuchi had hit him hard over the head to knock him out, and as he grabs the boy's face, his eyes widen in horror and realization. Then, his eyes go white.  
  
A gull cries out above them. The entire crew is startled into looking up at the violent sound, but Futakuchi watches the hauntingly blank eyes of their prisoner. The gull circles them high above as it makes an awful, almost man-like cry. There's a shout from the quarterdeck.  
  
"Kill the boy's body." Futakuchi looks up at Sakunami. Her voice is so grave, so commanding. "The boy— he is a skinchanger. Kill his body, and he'll be a gull forever. If he has any sense, he'll return to humanity." She explains hurriedly. Without questioning it, Futakuchi grabs the hand ax from his belt, grips the boy's hair, and bares his neck to the blade. He draws back, and just as he starts to swing, the boy's eyes flick back to violent gold.  
  
"Don't." He begs, and his ax halts just before his skin. It is becoming too familiar to hold a blade to this boy's neck. Futakuchi wishes he could just finish him off once and for all, but he is regretfully needed. He hears footsteps of Kamasaki's approach, and then Sasaya's breathless question.  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
Sakunami watches the boy who stares back.  
  
"An old bedtime story." She says, and Futakuchi cannot help but think of the whispers of the Isle of Lonely Light and their family curse. He wishes she did not speak these next words, because they make everyone realize how they truly, absolutely failed.  
  
"He's no Dornishman. He's a bloody northerner."  
  
A Dornishman was ideal. A Reachman was manageable. A Northman could only bring problems. The court of Winterfell is any ironborn's nightmare. They are fiercely protective and as vicious as their winters and barely tolerate the ironborn as is. It was said that the north walked away from the King's coronation and the question of who truly was to inherit the throne. If the North truly sent one of their own south to Dorne, then that meant only the worst. Futakuchi exhales everyone's fear,  
  
"Ushijima took a side."  
  
The moment Futakuchi speaks the name, their prisoner bares his teeth in a beastly snarl.  
  
"I would never serve a monster like him." The boy spits out the words, "His kingdom slaughtered thousands of my people. His father went to war with us, and we lost more than you southerners ever did! How could I ever serve such a vile man?!" Futakuchi practically hears the disappointment dripping off Kamasaki's voice as he curses.  
  
"Perfect," He says. "Absolutely fucking perfect. You captured a wildling. _A fucking wildling_."  
  
"I should have killed you on the docks." Futakuchi says as he lowers his ax with a bitter laugh. "Maybe our Lord Reaper will do it instead."  
  
  
  
They force the boy to give his name.  
  
"Shoyo Hinata." He says as he raises his chin in defiance to them all. "Sworn sword to King Tobio." Half the crew laughs at his words. He is no king yet, they say in amusement. But Hinata refuses to back down.  
  
He will be, he says.  
  
"He will be the true king, and you know it."  
  
Beside him, Futakuchi feels Aone shift slightly. He spares a half-glance, but Aone has already hid whatever emotion made him move so oddly. Not allowing the wildling to speak anymore, Kamasaki orders him gagged for the rest of their journey home. He almost seems to bite at Obara when he silences him, but Futakuchi gives him a warning look to tell him not to dare anything more. They have a little beast on their hands, he thinks. A little beast and a huge problem.  
  
  
  
Stirring his horse into a run, Futakuchi follows the others on their way from Lordsport to the castle Pyke. He dreads facing their lord, dreads his harsh words and an inevitable punishment. The castle stands high on its jagged cliffs and looms in drab gray and mossy green. Aone holds their wounded navigator protectively in front of him as they ride, and, as his captor, Futakuchi must carry Hinata. He wears heavy fetters now, and when they dismount just before the Great Keep, he glances about at the horses and nearby birds. Futakuchi grabs him by the back of the neck and hisses at him not to try anything, especially in front of their lord. He promises a slow death if he does.  
  
Sasaya murmurs quietly that they should bring Sakunami in last, so her cousin doesn't see her injury first. Futakuchi can barely think of that issue when he's holding the chains to a wildling not the prince they need.  
  
The Great Hall is damp and dimly lit, obscuring the view of the Seastone Chair. He feels his stomach drop as he feels all eyes upon the returning party. They are the strongest of the Iron Fleet, the most trusted. The way they hold themselves almost surely tells of their failure. As they come to stand before the dais, Futakuchi forces the boy to his knees. He immediately jerks his shoulder away from Futakuchi's grip, and in his anger, Futakuchi grabs his red, tangled hair and shoves his head down. Kamasaki barely spares them a glance before bowing to their lord above.  
  
"My Lord Reaper-"  
  
"Silence." The room doesn't breathe.  
  
Hinata dares to raise his head; Futakuchi cannot stop him in time and, horrified, looks up as well.  
  
Gray is the first thing anyone ever sees. Gray and stone creeping up from his robes, up his neck and speckling the right of his face giving him a hauntingly sad façade. Hundreds of bodies were burned when the plague took their lord's eldest brother and the true heir. Hundreds were dead, and only he survived. His thin, lanky hands grasp his black throne as he glares down at them all. Quiet is his nature, but loud is his rage. That is their Lord Moniwa.  
  
"My Lord-" Kamasaki begins again, but Moniwa snaps.  
  
"Be silent, damn you!" The Lord Captain cringes as do they all, but he very pointedly keeps his gaze on the ground.  
  
"Where is my cousin?" Rising from the throne, Moniwa looks about frantically for the little navigator girl. Futakuchi glances back towards the end of the hall where he can see Aone trying very hard not to be seen. Regretfully, with the size of him, he is instantly recognizable. They are her captains, she works on their crew. She is their responsibility, and Futakuchi knows they will be blamed for her injury. Moniwa beckons Aone forward with his left hand as he rushes down the dais to meet them. As he watches Sakunami limp to stand after Aone sets her on her feet, Futakuchi's hand goes slack around the wildling boy's head. Moniwa embraces her hurriedly but is careful to not hug too tight as he hears her quiet noise of discomfort. The bandage appears bloodless for the time being, but only because of the searing hot blade used to cauterize the wound. Moniwa pulls back to look at her leg for a long moment before cupping his cousin's face. His eyes always stray to the jagged scar stretching down to her collarbone, a constant reminder of when their crew failed her years ago. They failed her again, and she will bear yet another mark of this.  
  
"Who did this?" He asks in the silence between them. Futakuchi looks down at Hinata who he had felt tense suddenly. He tightens his grip again as he anticipates the boy's flight. The sickening feeling of failure still lingers when he remembers watching the wildling drive the ax into her thigh without mercy. He had been helpless to stop it, helpless to defend her. He had been battling the Dornishman later slain by Aone; he failed to protect her. Again. Now, the boy who truly wielded the blade will face justice.  
  
Sakunami does not speak his name though. She does not blame Hinata.  
  
"Some foolish Dornish guard" is the answer she gives instead, and then assures her cousin that the man is now dead.  
  
"Aone killed him not a moment later." Moniwa's rage visibly lessens as he looks from her to Aone. He thanks their god that at least _someone_ managed to do their damn job. He calls out to someone in the onlooking crowd to come forth and take care of her. Rustling her skirts out of the way, Lady Mai steps forth with a polite bow of her head.  
  
"Take care of her, will you?" He asks her, and she immediately accepts. One of her vassals gently picks Sakunami up, and her crew makes their way outside the Great Hall to her study in the Bloody Keep. Moniwa touches Mai's arm and keeps her back for a moment to whisper something or another that Futakuchi can't quite hear. Mai's deep green eyes watch Futakuchi as their lord speaks, and an unease settles in him. She raises one delicate eyebrow at him, and he understands that she isn't pleased and wishes to speak later on. After years, he knows his fiancee's little ladylike gestures and the true tempest she contains. Before her departure, Mai curtsies once more to Moniwa and, passing Aone, whispers something to him as well. The doors swing shut with a creak and leave the hall in heavy silence.  
  
"Who is _that_?" Moniwa spits out as he turns to look down at the wildling boy. Futakuchi looks to the Lord Captain to answer, but he makes a wild gesture behind Moniwa's back ordering Futakuchi himself to explain. Shit.  
  
"This is—"  
  
"Not the prince." The lord interrupts, and on instinct, Futakuchi's head bows. "He is not that goddamned bastard of a prince! I sent you for a prince, and you bring me this?!" Moniwa shouts as he turns to look at the entire crew who sailed south. Only half of them remain after the combined Dornish and Arbor efforts. All wear only shame on their expressions.  
  
"He is the prince's sworn sword." At this, Moniwa narrows his gaze. He lifts the boy's chin with two fingers and observes him for a long moment.  
  
"This boy... he is the whitecloak?" He asks suspiciously. The denial sticks in Futakuchi's throat.  
  
"No, my lord." Aone says, startling the room with his words. "He is a wildling." Moniwa stares up at the two of them in disbelief and mulls this confession. Aone is not a man of many words, but his words are always honest. Moniwa lets go of Hinata's chin rather forcefully. The movement reads of utter disappointment and with a flick of his robes, he returns to the dais and reseats himself silently.  
  
On any other day, Kamasaki and Sasaya would flank the throne as his most trusted captains. Today, Moniwa sits alone and refuses to look at anyone except the wildling boy. He taps his forefinger on the throne for a long pause. They all wait on bated breath, then,  
  
"Throw him in the dungeons."  
  
  
  
The cell is no wider than Futakuchi's own wingspan. It is no deeper than the length for a man to lay down. With no window for air, the room is stuffy and smells of dirt and moss. After removing the fetters, he shoves Hinata inside, and the boy stumbles to catch himself against the wall. He looks at his new home, this suffocating, little prison of his. Hinata chokes on his tears, and Futakuchi slams the door closed.  
  
  
  
He pulls a chair next to Aone, straddles the seat, and rests his arms around the back with a tired sigh. Mai clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she cleans Aone's wound. Frowning up at her, Futakuchi asks if he didn't dress the wound properly.  
  
"No, you dressed it well. You were both undoubtedly reckless during the raid, that's all." She purses her lips slightly as Aone's shoulder twitches in pain. The wound looks deep, but the only sound Aone makes is a quiet laugh at Mai's words. She knows them well.  
  
"It's not like we _tried_ to get injured. God, I wish I was the one with a hacked up thigh if it meant Sakunami being safe." Futakuchi grumbles as he fidgets idly with his necklace. Mai goes to her desk to fetch a needle and thread meanwhile. Her little hands are perfect for such delicate procedures, and somehow she has a stomach of pure steel. How many times is this that they came to her bloodied and roughed up asking sheepishly for her help? It must be hundred by now. She had gotten so fed up with them after the shipwreck that she insisted they learn how to patch someone up themselves.  
  
"Moniwa tasked us with interrogating the wildling boy." He states. Mai had left the Great Hall before Moniwa decided what to do with the situation at hand. They will have to get as much information as possible from him. Anything was valuable at this point. If he was the guard of the bastard prince, then presumably he would be close to the guards of Sunspear. Presumably, he would know about the castle's defenses, about perhaps any riches the castle held. He knows that the paramour from Starfall held his family's sword Dawn at the castle, and the Prince himself keeps his family's wealth in the vaults far below. It was not information about gold that Moniwa told Futakuchi to uncover. He asked for information about the prince, he demanded to know about Tobio.  
  
"He's been on edge since you all set sail." Mai says without looking away from her stitches. Chewing on his thumb nail, Futakuchi asks her for more specifics. Her position at court is invaluable to them all. After a long struggle against her uncles and cousins for the claim of Hammerhorn, Mai had assumed rule of essentially all of Great Wyk. Now, she is one of Moniwa's key courtiers and fiercely respected and even revered for her strength of will. She carries many secrets away from the inner court for Futakuchi and Aone's ears. Futakuchi listens closely as she speaks about their lord's nerves and anxieties of late.  
  
"He himself went to oversee the building of the new ships. He checked the storehouses for grain supplies despite having other matters to attend to. All manner of odd things..."  
  
"Why do you think he was like this?" He sees the question in Aone's eyes, and echoes it aloud. The hesitation in Mai's response shows even in her stitching. There is a pause before she continues to sew.  
  
"I don't know." She murmurs. "He could be on edge because both Kamasaki and Sasaya were gone, but probably something else too." Futakuchi scoffs at this remark, but then Aone mutters something that makes his heart skip a beat.  
  
"I would be nervous too, Kenji, … without you." Embarrassed, he shoves lightly at Aone's thigh and sees him crack a little smile before Mai continues to theorize.  
  
"There has to be a reason for the suddenness of this raid. We planned it a week in advance. It was rushed and frantic and completely botched by the end of it." She reaches for a salve to cover the wound and speed the healing process. The rosemary covers the stench of comfrey, and Aone sighs audibly when she applies it to his skin. Futakuchi sneers bitterly at her words.  
  
"Thank you for that wonderful comment, Mai." They would be reminded of this failure for weeks to come, even months knowing the cruelty of the ironborn.  
  
"For such a high prize, there was little notice. Little organization. It just doesn't make sense. We don't even know who we would have ransomed him to; the Dornish do not have funds for a prince's ransom, and it's not as if the King would kidnap him after having exiled him." Futakuchi tightens his grip on the back of the chair as he watches Mai wrap Aone's shoulder carefully. He cannot shake the image of Moniwa's rage, the way his hands quivered on the Seastone throne. There has to be a reason, he thinks.  
  
Mai kisses their cheeks farewell when they leave and whispers a gentle word to stay safe. They fetch their horses from the stables and return to the harbor where their ship awaits them. She is their shelter for now until they are given permission to return to Old Wyk. Their horses settle for the night at stables near the docks, and they loosely link hands as they walk down to where their ship sits beckoning them home. Obara welcomes them with a nod, but otherwise the ship is silent and the crew asleep. After many days aboard another man's ship, it feels good to be here. It is home.  
  
Flopping on the large bed the instant they reach their captains' quarters, Futakuchi breathes out a ragged sigh. Aone bars the door, something they haven't done in many years. It makes Futakuchi eye him warily and wonder who Aone fears at this moment. Perhaps Kamasaki. They had feared him for so long, even before he became Lord Captain. The memory brings a sick feeling to his gut, yet he gets a physical pain there when four little paws jump up onto him. He coughs,  
  
"Prin, oh, Prin, please—" The fat white cat kneads his stomach causing only more laughs and painful groans. She finally understands Futakuchi's plea and hops off, coming instead to settle in the crook of his elbow and armpit. Curling around her, Futakuchi coos her name and scratches at her sweet spots until she purrs in delight. Aone moves about the room to rummage through papers on the desk and shed his clothes by the dresser. He comes back in only breeches while mumbling about what Mai had said.  
  
"We need to find out what was the cause of all this." The bed dips under his weight, and Futakuchi can feel Aone tugging at his boots in a faint effort to undress him. He helps only slightly by kicking the boots off after Aone unlaced them. Aone grumbles at him about his bad habit of sleeping in his day clothes, and he concedes with an even louder grumble as he sheds his leather jerkin and wiggles out of his belt and overshirt too.  
  
"Better?" He asks, and Aone hums contentedly as he settles behind him and tugs Futakuchi's hair out of the short ponytail before combing a gentle hand through.  
  
"One other thing—" He utters as he gently pushes the cat off the bed. Futakuchi cries out indignantly, but Aone says "not tonight" and wraps his arms around Futakuchi to drift off to sleep.  
  
"I suppose I'll start interrogating the boy tomorrow." He sighs. The boat sways gently in the harbor, and he thinks of the last interrogation he had to perform. It had been a Westerland man, tied to the mast and flogged until he fainted from pain. Futakuchi shudders at the thought and feels Aone's grip on him tighten. He had leaned over the side of the boat and hurled after the man fainted. He begged his crew not to tell anyone of this weakness, and they had all agreed with a sympathetic nod.  
  
"I'll do it." He feels the words on the back of his neck, breath tickling him lightly. Eyes widening, he wiggles and twists to look at Aone and cup his face.  
  
"The only person who hates interrogations more than me is you." Aone ducks his head slightly, and Futakuchi knows he is doing this for Futakuchi's sake. He catches Aone in a kiss and murmurs thank you against his lips. Settling close, he feels lucky, so lucky to have this love.  
  
  
  
Hinata scrambles to his feet when Aone opens the door the next morning. He seems to have managed some sleep from the way he rubs at his eyes and then stares in horror at the ironborn before him. Standing out of the wildling's view, Futakuchi sees Aone flinch at Hinata's reaction, but it is such a small gesture that the frightened Hinata likely did not notice.  
  
"You're— gods, —" He blurts something that sounds a mix of Valyrian and harsh northern words. Futakuchi can hear his panicked breathing, and he wonders if the boy is searching for some way out of the cell. Unfortunately, there is not escaping unless he can fight past Aone, and that wasn't happening anytime soon. Futakuchi folds his arms over his chest and leans against the dark stone wall to listen through the little window on the door. He feels his chest tighten slightly when the boy starts to have a panic attack. His breathing goes ragged, and Futakuchi almost pities the way he cries. He can only stand to listen for a few minutes before pushing off the wall and returning to the open air outside the dungeons.  
  
He hates the sound of sobbing. He hates the way Hinata's voice broke as he begged Aone for mercy. The sickness in his gut boils up, and Futakuchi covers his mouth instinctively to stop himself from gagging. The raids never make him feel so ill, the sound of steel slicing flesh is nothing. It is the prolonged pain. It is the crying. Futakuchi cannot stand the memories that come flooding back.  
  
He flees down to the docks, far away from Pyke's walls.  
  
  
  
Many days pass before Futakuchi returns to the boy's cell. He had distracted himself with rigging a newer, better mast. A particularly nasty summer storm had roughed up much of the fleet. Their ship was nothing in comparison to the Lord Commander's, and so she had taken some damage. It was a good lesson for Koganegawa to help rig everything up, even if Futakuchi had gone to bed most nights now with a pounding headache. It is better to deal with their stupid little greenlander than the wildling boy, he thinks. Aone wouldn't say anything about the interrogations though; he would only mutter a few things, little things. Nothing substantial, nothing to satisfy their Lord Reaper.  
  
He nods his head in greeting to the hulking gaoler near the dungeon's entrance.  
  
"Are you looking fer the wild boy?" Futakuchi stops mid-stride and turns his head in confusion. He asks, isn't the boy in this tenth cell? The gaoler shakes his head and motions upward.  
  
"He was moved to the upper floors. Aone figured he'd go mad down here an' be useless fer interrogating."  
  
"Is that so?" He does not conceal his displeasure very well, but the gaoler is so dim-witted, he doubts the man notices. Futakuchi winds his way to the upper dungeons, where the cells are wider and, most importantly to the boy, have windows.  
  
Hinata's voice is not as frightened as his first day in the dungeons. Futakuchi thinks he is talking to himself as his words float down the quiet hall. There are not many prisoners at this time, and most of them are in the lower dungeons where unimportant people are kept. This section has barred windows overlooking the sea, hay mattresses to sleep on, and even enough space to walk around comfortably. Was one week in the dark, damp cell so harrowing that Hinata had already begun to lose his mind? Futakuchi remembers his feral golden eyes. Surely a little beast like he would not break so easily.  
  
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He hears Hinata ask. His step slows, softens so he can hear Aone's quiet response.  
  
"No," He lies, then adds "But I have a family." For years, Futakuchi was the closest thing to family Aone had besides his mother. Cast aside by society, he was a child born of an unknown father. Some of the ironborn joked that a giant arose from the sea to give his mother such a child, some said nothing at all because they knew it was not their business to ask. Aone's mother had sought sanctuary on Old Wyk with the Futakuchi family after being divorced in favor of a woman who could bear something other than daughters. She had known that the child inside of her was fathered by the sea. Tumbling through the sand together as kids, Futakuchi tugging the taller boy along to dance in the shallow waters and hop across stone shores. It was only the two of them for years.  
  
"I have a sister." Hinata sounds somewhat scared to admit this, but there's a dedication in his words that makes Futakuchi snap out of his own thoughts.  
  
"She is seven, soon to be eight. She's all I have, and I'm--" He breaks to laugh. The laugh breaks. "I was all she had."  
  
  
  
There's dirt under his nails from drawing idle patterns on the floor. Darkness has gathered outside, but a few spare torches illuminate the quiet dungeons. Futakuchi had drifted off at one point; it is easier to listen to the boy talk about his sister than to hear him cry in fear. He listens to tales of old, tales of winter and wild folk. Hinata loves his sister, Futakuchi learns. The boy couldn't be prouder of this little girl. Natsu is her name, he learns. He describes her with the same fiery hair and their mother's ferocity.  
  
Aone asks where his mother is.  
  
Hinata does not answer.  
  
The silence is interrupted after a few moments by the creaking of the door to his cell. It seems Aone is done for the day. Futakuchi dislikes the look on his face when he exits. Quiet, thoughtful. It is not the expression one should wear after a day of interrogations. He stands suddenly and looks at Aone who seems surprised to see him. Before the other can speak, Futakuchi walks past and peers in the door's window to look at their prisoner.  
  
He is calm. His shoulders are slumped, and his eyes are a bit duller, sadder than the fiesty boy they captured. Despite the weariness, Hinata is otherwise in perfect condition. His clothes are still in shape, his skin unmarred by tools of torture. The briny breeze that floats in through his small window seems to relax him.  
  
Futakuchi turns back to Aone and sees the defensiveness in his eyes.  
  
"Kenji—"  
  
"Don't you Kenji me, dammit. He doesn't look the least bit interrogated!" Aone cringes at the anger in Futakuchi's voice. He hisses low so the wildling won't hear, but by god, he is mad. "What have you been doing for the past week? Having tea and braiding flowers in each other's hair?"  
  
"Ke—"  
  
"Don't." He interrupts again, and as he strides past Aone, he feels a gentle hand around his own. Easily, Aone tugs him closer and, frowning, wipes the dirt off his thinner hands. His touch asks for understanding and patience. Please, he says with a single gaze. Futakuchi glances again at Hinata's door and utters a curse under his breath.  
  
"You had better not let Sasaya find out about this." With this warning and a nod of promise from Aone, Futakuchi leads them out of the dungeon.  
  
  
  
Moniwa stands over the table carefully observing the map laid out before them all. Their Lord Captain moves the onyx figurines around as he proposes this plan or that. Five kraken pieces, one for the ships of Moniwa, Kamasaki, Sasaya, Futakuchi and Aone, and Mai. In this current plan, only Moniwa's figurine is still stationed at Pyke. Kamasaki has placed the other four at the Shield Islands for now. From there, he plans for the crews to sail around the Arbor and on to Sunspear.  
  
"Why don't we cut through the Redwyne Straits? That would get us a day or two ahead of schedule." Futakuchi suggests suddenly from his seat. He stands to motion to the Dornish coast.  
  
"He has a point," Mai says. "Once we leave the Reach's waters, there's no good place to raid and restock until Planky Town."  
  
"It's twenty days along that god-forsaken coast granted we have the winds behind us." In only a few days, the summer solstice would be upon them. They all knew that this was the most opportune time to sail east, but even with all the stars aligned, the Dornish waters were known for being harsh and unpredictable. Not to mention, the Prince was surely preparing for a second attack, another attempt to capture their bastard prince.  
  
"We would be intercepted by the Arbor fleet or ships from Oldtown or even Starfall. We have to go around." Moniwa states plainly, fingering his black necklace idly. His answer is frustrating and makes Futakuchi unable to ignore the nagging thought in his head. Mai is almost able to stop him from blurting the question out.  
  
"Why would they stop us now? The Arbor sent out a pathetic defense, you know. They practically welcomed us. Why?" Sasaya had been turning over the sun-shaped figurine in his palm. Kamasaki was idly moving the krakens about in different sailing formations. Both of them stop and turn to look at their Lord Reaper. Futakuchi realizes neither of them knew why either. Surely they had asked, he thinks. Had Moniwa kept something secret from even his two closest captains?  
  
"What information do you have for me from the wilding boy?" Moniwa demands harshly and suddenly as his hand tightens over his necklace. The entire group looks now to him, and Futakuchi is unable to answer. Two, almost three, weeks have passed since the raid on the Arbor. Futakuchi had had more than enough time to get something useful from Hinata, yet here before his Lord, he draws a blank. Of course, he thinks, I'm not the one interrogating the boy.  
  
"Aone has been with him."  
  
"And...?" Moniwa draws out the word and lets it hang heavy in the air.  
  
Futakuchi has nothing to appease him.  
  
"Sasaya." The Lord Reaper snaps his advisor's name as a command. He returns the figurine to its position at Sunspear on the map and stands to leave. Futakuchi tries to follow him, tries to find Aone before he can, but Kamasaki snatches him by the upper arm and grips tight enough to bruise. Panic floods his being as Kamasaki's nails almost tear through the fabric of his shirt. He remembers those nails breaking skin, those awful hands leaving dark marks along his hips. Yanking as hard as possible, Futakuchi tears himself away.  
  
"Don't fucking touch me."  
  
  
  
He gallops past Sasaya on the way to the harbor and doesn't stop for formalities. His arm aches where Kamasaki held him, but he rides on. Shouting Aone's name, he slams open the door to their captains' quarters in a desperate search. He calls out to him again before realizing his love is crumpled on the floor by the wardrobe. Futakuchi rushes to his side and immediately sinks to his knees.  
  
"Taka? Taka—?" He runs his hands over Aone's face to assure himself he hasn't been hurt. Their Lord Captain was known for his rage, but the bastard leviathan could be just as deadly.  
  
"Takanobu, please." Futakuchi begs him to speak. He needs to know that he is okay. He sees Aone's hands balled up into fists in his lap and takes them into his own. He must repeat his name a dozen times before Aone finally opens his eyes.  
  
"We're not safe here." His voice quivers as do his hands. Futakuchi has never seen this terror in his lover's gaze. "Not us, not the crew. Not even Mai." Futakuchi wraps his arms around Aone's broad shoulders, pulls him close to try to calm him down, but honestly, he fears. God, he fears for them all.  
  
  
  
They pack in a hurry. Their belongings in this castle are few, so they manage to cram everything into one satchel to throw back onto their ship. Futakuchi sends Obara and Onagawa to hurry and gather Sakunami from her chambers in Pyke. Her rooms are adjacent to Moniwa's, and they pray their lord has not already placed guards on her doors to block their way. Koganegawa helps her back onto the ship after the duo from Orkmont and Blacktyde return. They go and gather a few supplies in haste, just a little food to make it the journey from Pyke to their home islands away. It takes an hour at most before they're ready to cast off.  
  
Futakuchi begs Mai to flee with them. We’ll take you home to Great Wyk, he whispers as her gentle hands stroke his cheek. You can stay with me at Old Wyk if you'd prefer, he pleads, shaking as the words come tumbling out. She whispers an apology against his lips. She must stay, but she insists he flee.  
  
"Stay safe, will you? You and Takanobu both. Please." He treasures the warmth of her hands cupping his face as they kiss one last time. She is comfort, she is strength. She is his rock. For now, however, she stands in the midst of a danger that Futakuchi cannot bear any longer. Her men will protect her, Futakuchi tells himself as they draw up their anchor and push away from the docks. He feels pathetic abandoning his fiancee like this, but he assures himself that she will be fine. She is too valuable to Moniwa. Sasaya wouldn't dare.  
  
There are many things any true ironborn wouldn't dare, but Sasaya is baseborn, and he is bloody. He will be a lord soon just like Kamasaki. His father never meant for Sasaya to reign over Volmark, but all his true sons had perished. Not even the babes remained. Only Sasaya still bore the Leviathan's brand. It brings a sick feeling to his stomach to think of such rumors, such awful accusations that the raven-haired man had never once denied. He only ever stood in silence and smirked terribly at them all.  
  
"Captain?" Koganegawa interrupts his thoughts. "We've already passed Pebbleton, sir." He must have been standing at the bow for hours now. His hands are numb and cold where they've gripped the railing, and his knees protest when he finally moves.  
  
He swears under his breath. Glancing, he sees Aone stands at the wheel, gripping the spokes firmly. Perhaps so not to shake. Koganegawa continues to prattle on about something that translates to annoying, white noise.  
  
"Kogane." He grits out.  
  
"Uh. Yes, sir?"  
  
"You fought that wildling boy, didn't you? You two tumbled about as the bastard prince maimed our Sakunami." The question comes out as an accusation, and it hurts the thrall boy deeply. He adores their navigator more than anyone, he loves her. After her first scar, he had vowed to grow into a man who could protect her. Yet, he could not protect her or even himself. He stutters to reply.  
  
"He threw you off the docks, right? He went on to foil our plan to steal the boy while you just flailed around in the water uselessly." He is shouting now. The entire crew is watching. Poor kid, he thinks. What a poor kid.  
  
"Do you even know how to swim, you stupid greenlander?" He hears yelling, Sakunami telling him to stop harassing Koganegawa, Obara asking him to calm down.  
  
He snatches the kid by his leather jerkin.  
  
"Today, you'll learn."  
  
  
  
Koganegawa screams are silenced out by the sea coming to swallow him whole. If the kid wants to be an ironborn so badly, let him be tested by their Drowned God. Let him die and be born again as iron and salt if that is what is wished by god.  
  
" _KANJI!_ " Sakunami cries from the crow's nest. She is helpless and scrambles to climb down the mast. The crew runs to the side in a rush to see if the kid swims. Two men start to descend the ship's side to fetch him, as it is obvious he is drowning.  
  
"Leave him!" Futakuchi orders in a voice he doesn't even recognize. This is the last Lord Reaper's voice. This is his father's. It is Kamasaki's. It is the voice of a cruel man. Futakuchi grips onto the railing and watches the waves drag the kid down, toss him about. It does not look like he will survive.  
  
"Captain, no—!" Obara hisses in warning. Futakuchi knows he isn't being addressed, so he looks to Aone and sees him stripping off his jacket and sword and boots hurriedly. He strides over to Aone and shoves at his barely-healed shoulder and orders him to stop. Aone snaps and shoves Futakuchi even harder, sending him stumbling back against the rails. Before Futakuchi can steady himself, Aone climbs onto the railing and dives down, down. Down.  
  
The sea seems to calm within a heartbeat.  
  
Aone has always been God's favorite, Futakuchi thinks. Surely, Koganegawa will live if the favored son of the sea is there beside him. He is the only reason Futakuchi still breathes today.  
  
Aone breaks the surface of the water with Koganegawa around his shoulders. Ignoring the possibility of Futakuchi's wrath, Onagawa throws the rope ladder down the side of the ship for Aone to grasp.  
  
"Heave!" The crew cries in unison, and quickly, they tug Aone and Koganegawa to the deck. The Orkmont boy yanks Koganegawa from Aone's shoulders and lays him flat on the deck as Sakunami rushes to his aide. She immediately begins to resuscitate him, pressing her hands flat against his chest as she begs him to return to this world, pleads with their god below to give him back.  
  
"Please—" She whispers against Koganegawa's lips. Aone watches Futakuchi, and the anger in his gaze makes Futakuchi want to crawl back to Pyke to rather face the horrors there. Suddenly, blessedly, the boy sputters and coughs up the sea from his lungs. Obara helps him sit upright and gets him to cough up the rest of the water with a good few slaps to his back. Sakunami begins to yell at Futakuchi, and he pities the girl for the brokenness of her voice. She truly feared for him.  
  
"How _dare_ you, Futakuchi? You cannot kill him because he is not iron, he is still family!" She sobs and tries to stand up, but Koganegawa clutches tight to her arm and pulls her close. He must whisper to her and reassure her, because her tears quiet as she holds her forehead against his.  
  
Futakuchi cannot look away from Aone. His eyes are stone and spite, and when Futakuchi dares to speak his name, he finally looks away, kneels down, and tends to their kid instead. He gives Futakuchi only silence. Stone and spite. Forcing his feet to move, Futakuchi returns to the quarterdeck to stand alone.  
  
  
  
They should reach Old Wyk before noon, Futakuchi figures. The moon is half-lit in the sky, but thankfully, no clouds cover its light, and the deep, black sea is illuminated.  
  
"I want to go home." Koganegawa whispers from down on the deck. He hasn't stepped foot near the railings since earlier and hasn't dared to look up at the quarterdeck, but his voice carries on the wind.  
  
The sea clings to him still. The salt has dried stiff in his hair. Futakuchi watches Sakunami sit with him against the mast, shoulders pressed together, her hand holding his.  
  
"We're almost to Old Wyk." She assures him, but it's not enough. It's not what he intended.  
  
"I mean Seagard, Kou. I wish the ironborn had never stolen me away from there." He sobs, and the Westerlands name makes Futakuchi cringe. He remembers holding the orphan babe in his arms with Aone, they who had seen no more than seven or eight summers when they found him. Koganegawa used to cry so often as a baby, and he cries the same now. Sakunami cannot find the right words, and her voice comes out as a half-choked plea.  
  
"You've always said this was your home."  
  
  
  
He leaves Obara and Onagawa to tend to the ship while they're away. They dock at the harbor spread below the great and ancient Castle Drumm and unload in uneasy silence. Koganegawa left his tears with the night winds, and he bustles about as usual attending to any needs his captains might have of him. Aone asks him only to help Sakunami up onto her horse and to do little, easy tasks. A part of Futakuchi wonders if the kid's lungs still burn of brine after yesterday, but he thinks it isn't his place to ask.  
  
"I'll get Sakunami settled at the castle and hopefully be home before dark." Futakuchi informs Aone but doesn't get any reaction except a curt nod before he stirs his horse into motion and leaves with the thrall boy.  
  
Old Wyk was a hard, cruel little island. It bred cruel men from its black, stony hills. The stout horses trudged up the pathway to the great castle where his family reigned. The ancient Castle Drumm used to sit on the shore and was battered by storms for years, but the sea crept back and gave land back to their family. Its eastern walls are permanently coated with salt deposits that thicken at the bottom of the walls, a rough contrast to the dank interior of the lower castle where servants stay and imprisoned men are kept. They must climb another hill to reach the west side of the castle. After centuries, the original gates were made unusable because of how the land was eaten away by the tides. As children, Futakuchi would dare Aone to stand at the old gates and peer down the cliffside.  
  
They are welcomed by a few servants who take their horses and offer to Sakunami bread and wine. Futakuchi does not need to be offered the sacred guest protections. He was born to this castle, and this is where he will one day rule. Only once his father has passed, that is.  
  
"Kenji" is the only word his father says to acknowledge him. Futakuchi lowers his head in deference, and sees Sakunami bow more fully. She is his guest, Futakuchi is just his loathsome son.  
  
"Good morn, father."  
  
"The sailors say you failed at your latest raid." Sakunami fidgets beside him, having noticed that Futakuchi has not raised his eyes to meet those of his father. This simple rumor makes Futakuchi burn in shame. Guilt, he thinks. I am guilty of failure.  
  
"The Lord Captain and the Leviathan led the raid, sir." He knows his father will not accept this as an excuse. His father starts to shout; it makes their little navigator shrink in on herself so not to be seen. Futakuchi knows he would never turn his wrath to the daughter of Lonely Light. Futakuchi is his only target as always. He yells and yells until a woman stops him with a stern word. A little of his held breath escapes him when he recognizes his mother. He cannot leave without getting one last word in though, so he grits out,  
  
"The only thing you ever did right was win that grand ship from Kamasaki's son, and that was only because of a stupid game of cards." Futakuchi swallows the awful lump in his throat only after he hears his father's thudding footsteps fade far down the corridor. Failure. You goddamn failure. The words echo for a moment, and then Futakuchi feels his mother's hands lifting his face.  
  
"Welcome home."  
  
  
  
"Will you be staying at the cottage again?" Her fingers through his long hair soothes him more the thought of being home again.  
  
"Yes. Taka is already there with Kogane." They are far away from the wrath of his father, tucked away in his grandfather's bedchambers. The current Lord of Old Wyk, his maternal grandfather was soon to be seventy-five, and with each day that passed, his bones become less cooperative and more painful than he will soon be able to bear. Despite this, he always jokes in private that the moment life leaves him, Futakuchi's father will snatch Old Wyk from his still-warm hands and away from the true heir, Futakuchi himself. The threat of his father taking Old Wyk was the only reason he returned to the iron islands four years past.  
  
"Is the kid still on his quest to become an ironman?" Grandfather croaks with a laugh. Futakuchi lifts his head from his mother's lap and smiles wide enough for the elder to see. It is not a laughing matter anymore. Koganegawa had dreamt for so long of being baptised into the faith, of being able to declare himself truly iron. Any other day, Futakuchi would make a sarcastic remark about the boy, but after hearing his wish to return to Seagard, Futakuchi cannot bring himself to even try. Old Wyk had always been his home, just as much as it was Futakuchi's home or Aone's. Koganegawa was only a babe when the ship from Seagard had been overrun with pirates bearing iron names and swords. There was no mercy except for the mercy of whatever god kept Koganegawa silent until the ship was dragged back to the islands to loot.  
  
Aone had warned him not to go searching around the quarters of a dead man, but Futakuchi felt drawn to the captain's cabin like there were ropes around his limbs, tugging him deeper into the ship splattered in Westerland blood. A child. A sleeping babe who only woke once Futakuchi lifted the little bundle into his arms. He is yours, the elders had decided when Futakuchi begged them not to kill him. He would be their burden, their responsibility.  
  
He doesn't realize that they are not alone anymore until he snaps out of his thoughts and hears a third voice.  
  
"You've done much more than simply win a ship in gambling, my dear." He manages a genuine smile when he sees the white-haired woman now sitting next to his own mother. He fidgets with the black stone of his necklace. Aone's mother is like an aunt to him, or, hell, with how she loves Futakuchi's own mother, she might as well be a second mother.  
  
"You have made me so proud, Kenji." His mother murmurs, and he wonders what she would think of him if she only knew.  
  
  
  
Evening falls upon him as he rides along the coast from Castle Drumm to the little cottage by the sea. It stands tucked between the steep cliffside and the dark, black forest that spreads over a short part of Old Wyk. It was once the home to one of his forefather's beloved salt wives. It stands a stout two stories and spans less than the length of the Great Hall of Pyke. He hears clattering coming from the side where a small shack sits. Futakuchi climbs off his horse and unhooks the two dead chickens from his saddle.  
  
"Kanji?" Futakuchi calls warily. He is unused to referring to the kid by his first name. Stupidly, as a child, he named Koganegawa almost exactly the same as his own self. His mothers always laughed, but they never corrected his choice. First comes stumbling the little kid, then the actual kid. The young goat butts its head into Futakuchi's shins and bleats obnoxiously. Reaching, he pats its soft head and then returns his attention to the fidgeting boy before him. He tosses the chickens to him one by one, and when Koganegawa looks at him, Futakuchi thinks he understands that this is his form of an apology. He is an ironborn, and regret is useless here. He apologized too many times in his youth for bullshit sins. As a captain of his own ship, he will do so no more.  
  
It is important for Koganegawa to understand this however; even though he will not apologize aloud, Futakuchi will admit he was wrong, that is what Futakuchi wants him to hear through these actions. The kid has a hard time biting back his smile, but he nods thrice in his joy. Futakuchi is trying in his own way to make up for what happened before with the gift of chickens, something they don't get to savor too often on their quiet isle.  
  
As Koganegawa sets about preparing the food, Futakuchi heads inside the silent house. He glances at the fire already crackling steadily in the fireplace, glances at Aone's heavy belt and sword thrown haphazardly on the table, boots kicked underneath. He gathers the mess into his arms along with the precious gift from his own grandfather and makes his way up the winding staircase to the second floor which was made up of only one room. Aone does not spare him a glance when he hears Futakuchi's footsteps. His broad back is turned away, body mostly submerged in the bathwater. Futakuchi tucks Aone's boots near their dresser before hanging up his belt and even fetches new clothes to lay out for when Aone emerges. He holds onto the gift from his grandfather for a few moments, feeling the hard steel underneath its cloth wrappings and reveling in its power. This too is tucked away for now, because for now Futakuchi has something more important to attend to.  
  
He stands, fidgeting anxiously not unlike Koganegawa had just done, before forcing his feet to move and go to his partner. He kneels by the tub and picks up the rag hanging over the side. Gingerly, as if expecting Aone to pull away at first, he presses the cloth against Aone's back and waits. When he does not pull away nor tell him to stop, Futakuchi begins to wash his paler skin. He runs the cloth over his wide and strong shoulders, digs his fingertips into Aone's tense muscles through the cloth like he knows he likes. He breathes against the dampness of skin.  
  
"Taka, I—"  
  
"Dont." Aone says suddenly. The word echoes in the quiet of their room and startles Futakuchi. "Don't apologize." He grits out. Futakuchi knows, he knows all the anger in his voice is not truly directed at him. Since they admitted their love, Aone has refused to let Futakuchi speak words of apologies. He heard too many of them, broken whispers as Futakuchi curled in on himself at night, held himself and wept against Aone's chest. He hates the way the words sound from Futakuchi's lips, but Futakuchi needs this apology to be heard.  
  
"I'm sorry. For what I did to Kanji, for what happened to Kou. I failed us, and ... I'm sorry, Taka."  
  
Aone shifts to face him, and before Futakuchi can repeat those awful words, Aone has his lips on Futakuchi, and he tastes the salt that still lingers from the sea. It lingers in their blood, on their tongues, in their lungs. He kisses back hungrily, taking all the love Aone gives to him like the past few weeks have starved him of any true affection. Everything has been riddled with fear and failure. He remembers the heat of Aone inside of him as they hurriedly fucked in the darkness of the cabin on the return from the Arbor. He remembers the taste of sweat against Aone's neck as Futakuchi muffled his groans with bite marks as Aone thrust inside, each time rougher and more desperate than the last.  
  
Groaning his name, Aone yanks Futakuchi's face closer, causing water to splash over the side of the tub onto the stone floors. His thick fingers wind in Futakuchi's hair and tug just right to make him let out a low and needy whine.  
  
The sound of Koganegawa squeaking is all too familiar by now. Futakuchi hears him drop something that goes clattering down the stairwell, and by the time he turns to glare at the kid, he can tell there's no chance at returning to the kiss. He has the worst timing, Futakuchi thinks half-bitterly.  
  
"The, uh. The chickens are, uh, they're cooking." The boy disappears downstairs again, and Futakuchi rests his head on the side of the tub with a tired sigh. He hears the tell-tale grumbling of a man interrupted and splashing to indicate Aone has decided to finish his bath early. His gaze follows Aone across the room, and he hums appreciatively as Aone bends to pick up a towel to dry himself off. Before the other can get fully clothed, Futakuchi has his hands on him and is shoving him back on the bed. Aone tries to protest — pitifully — but gives up as soon as Futakuchi flashes him a grin and sinks down to his knees.  
  
  
  
Futakuchi is barely able to contain his satisfaction as they head downstairs a few minutes later. Aone's face is flushed, and, just as they reach the kitchen, he hisses a quiet word at Futakuchi to wipe his mouth. Touching his lips, Futakuchi accidentally starts to laugh and is quickly silenced by Aone kissing him against the stair wall, a stray hand going to Futakuchi's neck to caress the silver pendant hanging there. They both hear Koganegawa groan in the background, and Aone must pity the poor kid because the kiss ends there. Futakuchi chases his lips for a moment and whispers,  
  
"I love you."  
  
Koganegawa groans louder this time, and Aone finally, fully tugs himself away from Futakuchi. They spend an hour waiting for their dinner to be ready, during which time Aone tends to each of his four birds, cooing at them softly and petting their tiny little heads. The brown pipit flies away from Aone's hand to perch on Futakuchi's head as he lounges on the sofa. Koganegawa starts to speak and point out the fact that the pipit is on his head, but Futakuchi just gruffly says he knows. If the cat annoys Aone, the birds are no better for Futakuchi. Obara swore he would visit the cottage the next morning and bring Princess with him. Despite the bird now pecking gently at his skull, Futakuchi feels so utterly at home. It is only them: Aone, Koganegawa, him. This is his family, this is their home.  
  
He hears a whining at the door, and the kid bustles to open it. How could he forget, Futakuchi wonders. There was one missing. Aone smiles widely as his fluffy mess of a dog comes bounding up to him with an excited bark. He yelps happily when Aone picks him up into his arms to smother in pets and adoring words. At least for now, Futakuchi thinks, everything will be okay.  
  
  
  
It was naïve to think this happiness would last more than a few weeks, Futakuchi muses later. The sailor bearing Mai's sigil comes riding to their home as Futakuchi is preparing the fish caught by Aone and Koganegawa earlier that day. Happiness does not last around here for very long, he thinks bitterly as the young man named Fukiage delivers his lady's message. Sakunami stands with the other two crew members in the doorway, chewing anxiously on her thumbnail.  
  
"Well, we won't be sailing til dawn, so please — stay for supper." Futakuchi says with a tense smile. Waving the newcomer inside, Futakuchi asks Obara to fetch Aone from the forest.  
  
"I wish we had returned from the Arbor with some of their wines instead of that wild boy." He tries to ease the tension with a laugh or two as Onagawa pours everyone a cup of mead, but any and all jokes fall flat. Fukiage fiddles with his cup, twisting it in his hand a few times. They wait in quietude, listening only to the sound of the hearth crackling and dinner cooking. Clattering wood and shuffling outside indicates Aone's return minutes later, and Futakuchi is visibly more at ease when he walks back into the cottage, ax in hand and worry written all over his expression.  
  
"Is she okay?" He asks suddenly, dropping the ax by the door before coming to loom over Fukiage. Quickly, Futakuchi leans across the table to touch Aone's hand and take his attention.  
  
"He says she is fine, just nervous. The wildling has started to go mad."  
  
They sup without speaking more of these darker things. Aone clutches his goblet a bit too tight, and Futakuchi takes his hand in his own without a word. Sakunami fills the air with idle conversation; she was raised as least somewhat like a lady on that isle of Lonely Light, so she makes the newcomer and the others comfortable with easy words. Futakuchi watches Aone more than anyone, watches the way his worries still sit, barely concealed behind that stoic exterior of his. He squeezes Aone's hand and finds little comfort when Aone does not squeeze back.  
  
Obara and Onagawa ride back to the harbor shortly after supper ends, promising to have the ship prepared to sail by daybreak. They make Fukiage comfortable on the couch despite his insistence that Sakunami should sleep there instead. The floor by the hearth is not so bad, he says, but Sakunami jokes that she will be fine sleeping in the shack with Koganegawa. This joke earns a glare from both captains, but in the end, it is the best arrangement they can find. Futakuchi and Aone both make sure to whisper threatening words to Koganegawa before leaving them for the night and retiring to their own bed.  
  
"Do not fear for Mai." Futakuchi says softly as he sheds his day clothes and slips into lighter breeches and an old, worn shirt of Aone's. He glances briefly at the gift still wrapped in red, red cloth before turning to their bed. The silence Aone gives him is not his usual quiet. It unnerves Futakuchi, it makes him uneasy. He leans forward on his hands and presses his weight onto the mattress. Aone's arm is flung over his eyes, and Futakuchi tries to reassure him of their lady's safety. "She has her men to protect her."  
  
Turning onto his side, Aone bares his back to Futakuchi with a single remark.  
  
"It is not she I fear for."  
  
  
  
The sight of Pyke makes Futakuchi sicker than before. Dread weeps from the hull of their ship as they weigh anchor once more at Lordsport and make their way to the Bloody Keep. He supposes they ought to have been announced to Lord Moniwa and the court, but also knows it will take less than an hour for their presence to be known once again. The unruly sons of Old Wyk, what a wonderful way to be known. For now, Futakuchi finds Mai's chambers and knocks to enter. When she opens the door, he notes that her pretty blonde hair is let out of its normal side braid and her eyes look tired from many nights of not sleeping. She explains in brief about what has happened in the weeks they were gone. The wildling's name reminds Futakuchi how Aone wanted to go immediately to the dungeons upon their arrival to Pyke. He is a useful source of information, Futakuchi tells himself. It would benefit no one to have him go mad.  
  
"Kenji." Mai says suddenly, harshly. His head snaps up, and he is pained by the way his fiancee's face softens into a weary smile. "You're holding me too tight." He looks at their hands for half of a second before letting go and apologizing quick. After a while, a page boy comes to summon Mai to the Great Hall. After tidying herself briefly, Mai excuses herself with a kiss and a word of advice to go see the boy and see what he has become.  
  
It is not until Futakuchi reaches the wildling’s cell that he hears the voice. Deeper than Aone’s, yet lighter for such words to be spoken, and Futakuchi freezes in the hallway. He had been sent. Moniwa had sent him, Futakuchi realizes as sudden, cold dread burns through his bones. He hides quickly and forces his breathing to slow, slow, even slower, as silent as possible as he listens and prays to the Drowned God never to be seen.  
  
“Dorne has not sent your ransom, little wildling.” Sasaya says coolly, nails scraping against the cell's stone wall. Futakuchi can see in his mind his own cringe mirrored on Hinata’s face. “Maybe we will send you back to Dorne in pieces. How about that? Would your Prince even try to get you back before your head was sent?” He adds after a silence. His chilling laugh that echoes through the dungeon fit every story ever whispered about the man.  
  
A monster, all the crews murmured when the Leviathan was not around. Futakuchi finds himself believing them this day.  
  
Hearing small, lazy footsteps, he hides deeper into the shadows, presses himself against the hard stone and closes his eyes and tries to make himself smaller, as if Sasaya can sense him even behind stone and shadows. Who knew what such men could truly do?  
  
“Do they value your life so little? They have sent neither letter nor gold. Not even an envoy. Despite our demands, despite our attempts to send you home. Nothing.” The gripping of fabric, then a grunt as Hinata is shoved against the wall. Sasaya's voice is soft, but his words hurt like daggers, every word accented with a bastard’s hatred of the world. “Not even your so-called King has sent for you. You, who saved his life. The South has forsaken you already, little wild one, you are thought to be lost and drowned and dead. How surprised would they be to see your bloodied head?”  
  
Futakuchi hears silence; he knows they are still both in this cell, cramped and dangerous and seething with rage. There's a gasp, then a violent scrap against stones, and an angry yelp from Sasaya as he suddenly rages against the smaller boy, throwing him against the floor. Futakuchi hears the brutality of two beasts before a calm settles again along with an awful silence. Fear renders Futakuchi immobile, but he swears he smells the sharp tang of blood, yet he is not sure from whom.  
  
It does not matter, he thinks he hears Hinata say. It is a smaller voice, more fragile without the command and terror behind Sasaya's own, yet. Yet he knows there is something more. There is a madness there, a desperation to him that makes the words shiver, and Sasaya laughs even more.  
  
“Yes. It does not matter, little wild one. You are here with us, and not even the giant Aone can save you now.”  
  
A seagull cries above them as the door creaks open only to crash shut. The sea herself is deafening, crashing against rocks and shores as if they have been moved by the same spirit that has made Hinata mad.  
  
Giant, warg, kinslayer.  
  
Monsters.  
  
Each and every one of them is a monster, and Futakuchi knows that at the end, he will be just the same.  
  
  
  
"Prince Daichi has sent a raven each week since your men kidnapped our guard Shoyo Hinata two months ago asking you to name a price."  
  
Futakuchi is breathless by the time he reaches the Great Hall to speak with their lord. A man in bold red and gold bearing the sigil of the sun stands before the Seastone throne petitioning for the little beast. Beside Aone, Mai immediately turns her head with an awful expression of distress. Futakuchi does not remember the last time she wore such an awful face, but perhaps it was when he ran his first ship aground in a supposed fit of madness.  
  
Futakuchi had stayed in the shadows for so long, waiting until he was entirely sure that the Leviathan had gone from that place. Now, Sasaya sits upon the last step of the dais, slouched back so easily on his elbow as he holds one of the sun-shaped figurines from their lord's map. His gaze sends an awful, sinking feeling to the bottom of Futakuchi's gut.  
  
"My lord, any price—"  
  
"You will address him as your Lord Reaper or you will not have a tongue to address him with." Kamasaki snarls from his position at Moniwa's right hand, tightly gripping the sword resting on his hip. The Dornishman's mouth twitches into an irritated thin line, as if he cannot decide whether to sneer or scowl at the arrogance of this Lord Captain. Futakuchi notes the beautiful sword strapped to the equally beautiful envoy's hip; its sheath of violet stone is encrusted with silver jewels, and Futakuchi knows it is the sword of a nobleman not a mere messenger boy.  
  
" _My Lord Reaper_ , ... Dorne will pay any price for Shoyo's safe return."  
  
"The bastard. He is my price." He grits out, and the envoy shakes his head, golden eyes burning.  
  
"Dorne will not give one of her children to save another."  
  
"They are not children!" Moniwa yells suddenly, startling the entire hall by the rage and force behind his words. Even Kamasaki standing beside him gives him a worried glance, but the Dornishman simply raises his chin, unblinking. Undeterred from his course.  
  
"They are not children, and they are certainly not children of _Dorne_. One is a wildling and the other a half-bred bastard from the Reach. Dorne has no claim to _either_ of them."  
  
"You are wrong, my Lord Reaper. They are and will always be sons of Sunspear and therefore under our protection." Moniwa rises from his oil black throne when the envoy speaks so defiantly. This man does not fear a single one of the ironborn. It is not for lack of understanding the danger here, but for confidence in his own self. Futakuchi's hand twitches at his side.  
  
"Will your Prince protect that wildling when the North sends for his head? Will your Prince protect that bastard when the crowned King calls for his head too? Will your _Prince_ go to war for two mere boys?"  
  
"Would you?" The envoy asks, and his voice rings clear in the hall, growing and growing until he is shouting in fury. "Don't you have people you love, oh Lord Reaper? Don't you have someone you would go to war for? Or are you too comfortable here in your islands, are you too weak to fight? Or are you simply too scared to take a stand?"  
  
Three swings.  
  
Three swings and the Dornishman has his shining blade at Kamasaki's throat, the Lord Captain's own blade clanging to the floor, cut clean in half.  
  
Futakuchi steps forward and draws on instinct, but stops halfway when he realizes that the envoy's words are his own. Would Moniwa go to war for any of them? Even his cousin Sakunami? Was he so content to stay by the sidelines because of laziness or an overwhelming fear of what awaited them should the Iron Fleet defy the King.  
  
The Dornishman burns as he watches Moniwa's hesitation, watches how he fiddles with the black glass on his necklace as always. He presses the sword into Kamasaki's neck to see Moniwa cringe.  
  
"You are weak, Lord Moniwa. You could have never dared to kidnap prince Tobio on your own, so who was it? _Who ordered you to kidnap Tobio?_ "  
  
Lunging, Futakuchi unsheathes his own steel and thrusts before he can think. Kamasaki always kept that damn Astapori dagger in his belt, and the Dornishman had been too busy shouting at Moniwa to see. But Futakuchi stops him, knocks the blade out of his hand before he can strike. The Great Hall is silent for too long, but Futakuchi refuses to lower his gaze from Kamasaki's until the envoy speaks once more, voice dropping to an eerie calm.  
  
"We Dornish fight for our own. If you harm Shoyo, we will wage war. If you dare come for Tobio again, I myself will slit your goddamn throat, —" Taking a step away from Kamasaki, the envoy slides his sword back into its scabbard and bows in an exaggerated sweep. “—Lord Reaper.”  
  
Just before he exits, he turns his head to look directly at Aone.  
  
“You— … You know that the man you hacked open? Ryuunosuke Tanaka? He survived, and he wants Shoyo back.”  
  
  
  
Moniwa orders him quietly, too quietly, to put away his blade. He can see their lord's hands ball into fists by his side, the gray spotting his skin would be tinted red in humiliation for how this Dornishman treated them. He can feel Kamasaki's rage even as he returns to the dais to be with Moniwa. Mai grabs his wrist before he can follow Kamasaki to accuse him of being rash.  
  
"If it is a war he wants, he should say so." Futakuchi spits as he glances back at the three on the dais. Sasaya has still not moved, and a part of Futakuchi hates the way he calms in the face of chaos. "No need to murder a Dornish envoy."  
  
"By god, Kenji, that was no mere envoy—" Mai hisses quietly. "That was Lord Sugawara of Starfall. Did you not see Dawn in his hand?" When she speaks the sword's name, everything falls into place letting Futakuchi realize why he thought the sword seemed so strange. He cannot fathom how the Prince allowed his own paramour, lord or not, to sail to the Iron Islands without a heavy guard. The pirate in him craves to see the legendary blade once more, forged from a fallen star, passed down for centuries to the Lord of Starfall if his predecessor deemed him worthy. He dares to imagine a scene where Sugawara had pressed Dawn just a little further into Kamasaki's skin, dares to let himself think of the Lord Captain's blood spilled on the hard stones of Pyke. Watching Kamasaki put his hand on Moniwa, Futakuchi feels sick.  
  
"So your grandfather gave you Red Rain." He turns suddenly to look at Sasaya as he speaks. The bastard grins down at him coolly, and Futakuchi tightens his grip on the hilt of it. For Starfall, there is Dawn. For Old Wyk, there is Red Rain.  
  
"Gave, right? You did not take it from him?" Sasaya stands with one fluid motion and descends the few steps to reach Futakuchi, Aone, and Mai. It is hard not to notice a sword the color of blood, especially when it had been so near to the glimmering once-star of Dawn.  
  
"Are you saying I should have stolen my own ancestral blade?" He sneers. The tight grip of Mai's little hand on his wrist is the only thing holding him back at this moment.  
  
"Well, you certainly haven't paid the iron price for it."  
  
"You don't know the price I've paid for—"  
  
"All of you need to leave." Moniwa declares suddenly. His voice is still too quiet, perhaps the Dornishman's words were more than he wanted to hear. Futakuchi remembers the wildling trapped far below the castle in the damp, awful cells and almost requests an audience. Except Moniwa orders him to stay before he can even speak. He gets worried glances from Mai and Aone both, and as they move past him to leave, Aone touches his hand. He wants to warn Aone. Don't go to the boy. Don't go to him again, he wants to say. It is too dangerous, and I fear for us all.  
  
He approaches the dais as the heavy doors slam shut, leaving the two in eerie silence. Futakuchi knows not to speak first, not while Moniwa is in such a state, but the instinct lingers. He needs to ask Moniwa what is going on.  
  
"How dare you raise your blade to Kamasaki, your Lord Captain?" Moniwa brushes past Futakuchi as he walks to the map laid out on the table. Hesitantly, Futakuchi follows but not without his hand twitching over the hilt of his sword. There is a loyalty obviously owed between a Lord Reaper and his Commander, but this is too much. It is a loyalty uncalled for, above normal, and it unsettles Futakuchi. Moniwa lets go of his necklace to pick up the kraken figurine representative of Futakuchi and Aone's crew, holding it tight in his stony hand.  
  
"It is not your place to defy him, and to show such a thing to Dorne? To show us as weak and fragmented?" As if it was his father not his Lord Reaper, Futakuchi bows his head to avoid Moniwa's gaze. He hears the shattering of the figurine on the stone floor as Moniwa hurls it to his feet and flinches at the sound. "If you cannot put aside your own resentment for the good of this kingdom, you should step away from your lordship and captaincy right now."  
  
Futakuchi lifts his head.  
  
"My own resentment?" He echoes. The knowing is written all over his Lord's expression. That knowing, that awful knowing. Futakuchi's next words stick in his throat like hooks over sides of ships, climbing painfully, slamming boots into his ribcage and pounding on his heart. He sounds pathetic when he speaks, and the shame overflows.  
  
"What do you mean, my lord?"  
  
Moniwa refuses to look at him; he turns his face to look upon the map with its krakens and suns and roses and wolves. The ghost of a hand brushes up Futakuchi's neck to trace his earlobe. He once wore his hair so short, but that was a time long ago. Kenji, Kenji, he hears.  
  
"What did he tell you?" He yells. The demand echoes in the Great Hall, but Moniwa refuses him again. "What lies has he dared to speak?" Moniwa slaps Futakuchi's hand away when he grabs his lordly robes. His black eyes show the knowing, that awful, awful knowing.  
  
"They are no lies. They are no lies, and you did not gain that ship through a game of cards."  
  
Moniwa steps forward, getting in Futakuchi's space, and Futakuchi can see his upper lip twitch in disgust. He knows, he knows, Futakuchi wants to scream. No wonder he looks at me with those awful eyes.  
  
"Would your crew keep you as captain if they knew?" Moniwa grabs Futakuchi's hair, yanking it out of his ponytail as he drags the Old Wyk heir close. Futakuchi scrabbles to press his hair to his scalp so the pain lessens, but he cannot stop the words his Lord dares breathe. "You who _whored_ yourself for a ship."  
  
This is not the loyalty of a Lord Reaper to his Lord Commander. This, Futakuchi realizes in horror, is the loyalty of lovers. Moniwa's gestures ooze disappointment, and he lets go of Futakuchi forcefully as if the very presence of him is revolting.  
  
"Do you know what he has done?" Futakuchi shouts in a shaking, terrified tone. "Do you know what a monster he truly is?" Even Aone did now know the truth. Mai, sweet Mai only found out because Futakuchi came to her, bruised and weeping as a sixteen year old, collapsing in her embrace. She had held his once pretty face and run a soft cloth over his busted lip, over the swelling of his eye. She had wrapped his ribs tight, fighting back her own tears as Futakuchi cried.  
  
Moniwa refuses to look at him.  
  
Futakuchi remembers wandering out to the depths of the sea and letting himself be swallowed by the waves.  
  
"You're despicable." He calls, but his voice breaks, and he wants to shrink in on himself when Moniwa roars at him to be silent. He slams his hands on the table and shakes the figurines into toppling over. In that moment, he sees Sasaya turning the sun over in his hand again and again, watching Futakuchi all the while. "You... You're fucking the Leviathan too, aren't you?"  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about, Futakuchi. You don't know—" Moniwa turns just in time to catch Futakuchi drawing his sword. Moniwa ducks out of the way, and the cracking of the oaken table under Red Rain's blade sounds around the room followed by Futakuchi's strangled cry. Moniwa's stony hand grips his wrist tight and twists to where Futakuchi thinks he can hear the bones scream too. He drops the Valyrian blade, and as it clatters down, Moniwa kicks it with his boot and sends the sword spinning across the room, far from its owner's grip.  
  
"You're the whore, Moniwa." Futakuchi spits out before he feels Moniwa shoving him against the table. His left hand may not be covered in stone, but it is no less strong as it comes to close over Futakuchi's throat. He chokes,  
  
"You open your legs to them, you give your power, your crown for their sex." Never has his Lord truly scared him, but the fingers digging into his throat and the ferocity in Moniwa's eyes makes Futakuchi want to run from this place. This is what happens, Futakuchi thinks. This is what happens when Kamasaki gets his claws into people, when Sasaya wraps people in his web.  
  
"Is this how you got your crown, is this how you got _your_ first ship?" Futakuchi wheezes. "You are no better than I to open yourself for such people. No better—" Moniwa puts all of his weight onto Futakuchi's neck, squeezes and, god, Futakuchi thinks he might actually kill him. The burning in his lungs reminds him of drowning, it reminds him of swallowing the sea and choking on salt. He struggles to pull Moniwa's hand away, even just to lessen the pressure on his windpipe. His nails dig into Moniwa's flesh, tearing at the back of his hand until the Lord flings Futakuchi to the side and onto the stone floor.  
  
Air comes flooding back to him as he heaves for breath, clutches at his throat weakly as the room spins around him. He tries to push Moniwa's hand away from the back of his head, but he grabs Futakuchi's hair and yanks his head so he may see his Lord Reaper and the rage with which he reigns.  
  
"Do not ever speak to me like this again, Kenji of Old Wyk. You are a vassal in my kingdom, and as easily as I have cast away your sword, I will cast you away too." When Moniwa releases the tight grip on his hair, Futakuchi's head lolls down, and his hair falls to cover his face. He knows there will be bruises that match Moniwa's hands. Smaller than Kamasaki's, but no less cruel. At least Moniwa did not laugh, he thinks.  
  
"You are—" He coughs violently, yet Moniwa does not turn from his path to the hall doors. The creaking covers his first words, but in the space between, he chokes out, "You are abed with monsters."  
  
  
  
The Lord Captain's son was handsome, Futakuchi thought. He brawled with the bastard of Volmark and laughed with him too, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they chattered on. Even the quiet heir could not resist when Kamasaki would swagger up to him and offer him a drink. He made the ship feel alive, he made Futakuchi's heart beat out of his chest.  
  
He slid his arms around Kamasaki's neck one night when the ale had been flowing and half the men were either asleep on the tables or taking a wench somewhere else to fuck. He had long felt the eyes of this young captain, felt him follow him across the deck as he shed his leather jerkin and loosened his shirt a few buttons. He was not naïve, he knew. The burning of his lips and the press of his fingertips against his hips was something Futakuchi never wanted to forget.  
  
My body for your ship, he had whispered. He had known no other and knew that was what would arouse Kamasaki more than anything else. Kamasaki sealed the deal with his kiss, and Futakuchi fell into his arms happily.  
  
A game of cards, they told everyone. A game of cards. It had been too good; fifteen and the captain of his own ship? The son of Harlaw wrapped around his finger? He had the perfect hand to play, everything he needed to win once and then stop while he was ahead. But the high was too good, the sex was everything and more. He had it all and refused to give it up.  
  
Aone had voiced his concerns. Even sweet Mai had whispered words of caution.  
  
He tried not to cry.  
  
Futakuchi knew Kamasaki only enjoyed it more when he cried, when he wept or screamed. He would force the screams if he felt unsatisfied. The bruises were barely hid under even the most modest of clothing, and his face never looked as pretty as it once did. Mai wept for him some days, dabbing at his cuts with a medicated cloth as Futakuchi whispered broken words.  
  
Please, god, help me, he whispered. Please, god, are you there?  
  
He broke his ribs the last time they fucked. Held his throat as he thrust inside after kicking him in the side. Futakuchi thought maybe he might suffocate before they were done. How pleasant that would have been, he had thought, to escape this awful, awful hell.  
  
The bed had been too soft, he thought. His body was broken and used, yet here he lay on this soft, soft bed. He wept into the pillows after Kamasaki was long gone and cried for the Drowned God to take him away into the watery depths.  
  
  
  
His pillow is soaked with tears, he realizes. Aone is above him, half-shouting, half-begging for him to wake up. He tries to speak and comfort his love, but his throat is too sore, and he can only sit up and pull Aone close. His entire body aches from the fight yesterday. His mind aches with memory of years past. Seven years since it all began, but only five years since he had freed himself, or since Aone freed him.  
  
"The boy." He croaks faintly. Without having to repeat himself, Aone understands. They need to see the wildling boy.  
  
They hear his crying from the entrance to the dungeons. Aone rushes ahead with the gaoler's keys while Futakuchi demands to know who else has visited the boy. The portly drunk gives Kamasaki's name.  
  
Aone screams for Futakuchi from within the cell.  
  
  
  
Sweetsleep mixed with the gaoler's fifth ale leaves him dreaming for hours. Futakuchi and Aone are known to visit the dungeons to interrogate their prisoner, but Mai must don a dark cloak and tuck her pretty braid away so not to be seen. Aone winces each time Hinata cries out in pain, and it takes the second shifting of bones sliding into place for the boy to cave and accept the milk of the poppy Mai had brought. Although his skin is dirty and bruised and his forehead bears a shallow gash, Mai is relieved to find that only his fingers were broken. This time, Futakuchi nearly says, but focuses instead on the way Mai's delicate hands are aligning bones and fixing the disaster the Lord Captain had caused.  
  
I was the cause of this, Futakuchi thinks bitterly. If I had not raised my blade to him, if I had not been so rebellious before Moniwa. If I had not, he thinks l, if I had not, we would be at war with Dorne. We would be hunted by the Prince, by their people, by all who loved the son of Starfall.  
  
“You are so brave, Shoyo.” Mai whispers as she finishes splinting his first finger completely. His head is pressed to Aone's chest where he weeps without realizing, drunkenly mumbling in his foreign tongue as the opium takes hold of his mind and fogs the fucked up reality at hand.  
  
“Ryuu…” He pleads weakly. Sugawara had said that name. Ryuunosuke Tanaka. Futakuchi looks down at the splints and cloth and drugs smuggled in under their cloaks and thought of the man who they left bleeding on the Arbor docks. How could all of this have gone so wrong?  
  
The boy shifts his gaze from Aone to Mai and starts to mumble again as Mai tends to his hands. Poor boy, she says without thinking.  
  
"You are so far from home."  
  
Futakuchi wonders if Hinata had even a vague comprehension of what was going on, if he even realized anymore that he was in the dungeons of Pyke or if perhaps he thought he was back in Dorne or back at the Wall he came from. For his sake, Futakuchi hopes that he does not remember any of this.  
  
Hinata is barely conscious when Mai finishes. He has hidden his tear-stained face against Aone's chest and willed himself to sleep to escape the pain. Though they fear the gaoler waking, Mai insists to stay with the boy for just a while. Gently, as gentle as a mother cradles her babe, Mai cradles Hinata and slowly lowers his head into her lap. Her skirts are soiled with ointments and the blood where one broken knuckle had pierced through the skin. There is dirt on the floor and dirt on Hinata's skin, and Mai gently brushes his grimy hair back away from his face so she may see sleep overtake him.  
  
She sings the song of a lamenting mermaid. It is sad, heartbreaking hymn. She drowned her love by mistake because he was not able to breathe as she. The mermaid wept enough to flood the ocean and bury the island's inhabitants in a watery grave. To the Ironborn, there lies another isle, the isle from this song, resting far beneath the waves and even further out than Lonely Light. Her love was one of the salt kings, before the islands were united under one driftwood crown. Futakuchi feels his chest grow tight and forces himself to leave the cell.  
  
The hymn floats through the air, curls around Futakuchi’s skin and whispers to him as he walks further and further away from the cell where the wildling lay sleeping. He hears heavy footsteps and turns to see Aone slam his fist into the damp corridor wall. He rests his forehead against the stone, crinkles his nose up and squeezes his eyes shut, and Futakuchi knows he is trying not to cry. Do not weep for him, Futakuchi wants to say. Do not waste your tears on a wildling boy, a prisoner of our Lord. Before the words can leave his mouth, Aone has left the dungeon and left Futakuchi too.  
  
  
  
When Moniwa announces that the court will sail to Old Wyk to offer sacrifice to the Drowned God and ask good tides and swift winds for the raiding season, Futakuchi has to try very hard not to laugh. What a joke. What a sick, horrible joke. Old Wyk would never refuse its Lord Reaper, but now is the worst time to have the Lord Captain and the Leviathan within the castle walls. He thinks of his mother, he thinks of Aone's.  
  
They load the ships with sacrifices. Barrels of fish to pigs to horses. Finery captured from far away and crops grown on their own lands. They will pour out the animals' blood onto the remains of Nagga's bones and then as the tides wash it all away, they will feast in the Drowned God's honor, in the honor of reaving in days past and days to come. In a few months, they will ask the drowned men's blessing on the new ships to consecrate them for raids. Futakuchi looks to the shipyards and the slow formation of ten new ships. He does not recall Mai's island of Great Wyk having such a vast supply of lumber that year, nor Blacktyde nor Orkmont.  
  
It is not the right year for sacrifices, Futakuchi knows. Everyone knows. Only six years past was the last sacrifice, so the next is not due for another two years. The Dornishman has him spooked, Futakuchi muses. The coronation of a new king, the rumbling of revolution in the south. Moniwa had only ruled for a little over a year. Perhaps he was going to ask the Drowned God for stability of his throne, stability of his kingdom of salt and sea. He watches Moniwa's large, dark-hulled ship lead the fleet to Old Wyk and wonders what is going on.  
  
To see his grandfather out of his bed for once relieves Futakuchi, but he knows the old man is struggling to stand and leans heavily on his daughter and Aone's mother for support. Futakuchi's father tries to speak the honors of hosting Lord Moniwa, but Moniwa politely shrugs him off for the actual lord of Old Wyk and their other honored guest. The late Lord Reaper had offered the highest position to this man, but he had turned it down to become a priest of the Drowned God. No honor was greater than the serve him, he had said. Futakuchi had known him since he was young. Castle Drumm was his refuge for many nights when he was not wandering or performing ritual.  
  
"Oiwake, I thank you for leading our sacrifices this year." Moniwa says respectfully, only bowing his head a hint while Oiwake does the same. The faith had been ever present in he and Aone's childhoods; they were baptised as children like all are, but they heard the priest's sacred words and wisdom more often than they heard their teacher's. Oiwake watches over the crowd with a careful eye and catches sight of Futakuchi and Aone standing with their crew. He nods in their direction, a simple hello, and they mimic the gesture. He will speak to each of the captains individually to tell them of what they brought will they sacrifice the next day. Sometimes, god asks for much. Sometimes, god asks for little. If a captain has been pious and offered sacrifice before, Oiwake will tell them they need to bring little to Nagga's bones to be given away. If a captain seeks guidance, Oiwake might tell them to bring more. Futakuchi thinks that Moniwa might bring the most of all.  
  
After the captains eat the offered bread and salt, Futakuchi goes to his grandfather to help him back to his rooms. The guests begin to make themselves comfortable, with men retreating to the shore to stay at their ships until nightfall and feast time or captains waiting to lead Oiwake to their stores for his sagacious tellings. Aone helps Futakuchi's grandfather by lifting him gently when they are out of sight of everyone so not to shame him for his frailty. His grandfather chuckles and remarks how big Aone has grown. You were once no taller than my knee, he says, and Aone can only nod in response. When he sets his grandfather back in his bed, he catches Aone's arm and stares at him queerly.  
  
"Ask your question, child. Ask and the Drowned God will answer." Futakuchi tries to see Aone's expression to see what his grandfather means. Did he see a hesitation in Aone's heart that Futakuchi had not? Or perhaps he saw a hesitation that Futakuchi had chosen to ignore. He thinks of the wildling. It had been five days since the envoy came, since Kamasaki took out his anger on the poor child. Mai had left a week's worth of bandages hidden in Hinata's cell so that he could attend to himself while they were gone at the sacrifices and left some milk of the poppy for Hinata to take, but she urged him only to use it when the pain was too much to bear. It is addictive, she warned.  
  
Futakuchi wonders if Aone is thinking of him.  
  
  
  
"You will not need to bring these things tomorrow." Oiwake says as he looks upon what Futakuchi and his crew have brought before him. Confused, he asks Oiwake why not. Surely he must offer something to the Drowned God, even if the cycle is out of sync.  
  
"Your sacrifice will come at a later time. It will be great and grievous, and you will know our god is testing you." A gnawing feeling starts in his gut and bubbles up to his throat, but before he can ask another question, Oiwake speaks again. "Tomorrow, you will wash Nagga's bones. You will clean the blood from the sacrifices with water from the sea. It may take all night, but it is what is needed from you for now. Not these material things."  
  
Futakuchi bows low to the priest, accepting his most sacred decree but not understanding still. He looks to Aone next.  
  
"The Drowned God sees the question his blessed son has, and he will answer in time." Aone accepts this without a single question. He has always accepted Oiwake's words. The Drowned God saved his mother and saved him too, so his life has been forever indebted to the faith. What Oiwake says next, Futakuchi wishes he had not accepted so simply.  
  
"Sacrifice the kid."  
  
Aone looks back at Koganegawa whose mouth falls open in shock. He turns back to Oiwake and bows. He accepts, and Futakuchi snaps. He yells a refusal and grabs for Oiwake's rough-hewn robes, but the cudgel of another priest blocks him from touching the Drowned one's messenger.  
  
"He can't sacrifice him— he won't—!" Futakuchi's voice shakes as he meets Oiwake's hardened gaze.  
  
"It is not your sacrifice, Kenji; it is Takanobu's to fulfill or fail." What question would be so great that it would require the blood of another human being? Such sacrifices are for war, Futakuchi thinks in a panic. What war is being waged? What such great calamity requires Koganegawa to die?  
  
  
  
His hands have gone half-numb gripping his goblet too tight. Aone has been missing since Oiwake delivered his order on what to sacrifice the next day. The kid dances across the feast to a bawdy song followed by Obara and Onagawa. He is completely drunk. The only privilege of being a sacrifice is that one is given the best wines, the most delicious foods. A starved and sad sacrifice is unsatisfying to the Drowned God. Plus, the alcohol helps the poor kid forget his fate. Sakunami, despite Koganegawa's efforts to get her to drink, is stone-cold sober and unable to help the tears that stain her cheeks. She holds a cup of bitter water and sits quietly next to the youth Fukiage from Mai's crew who seems no more drunk than she.  
  
Mai, Futakuchi thinks suddenly. He had thought only of Aone all afternoon. Of Aone and of Koganegawa, but not of Mai. He swears to himself and looks around for her before feeling a soft hand caress his neck followed by the call of his name. She asks him for a walk, and he follows her quickly.  
  
"Moniwa has been writing to him." Mai says, so quiet Futakuchi almost does not hear. Her grip on his wrist is tight. Afraid.  
  
"Him who?"  
  
"Lord Ushijima." His chest grows tight hearing the name. Winter had been the ironborn's enemy for years. The current peace was only forced after the settlement between the late Lord of Winterfell and the late Lord Reaper years ago. The agreement held that the Lord's third child Kaname would be held at Winterfell until the debt was paid.  
  
"The letters go back months, years. Eight and a half years, specifically, ever since Moniwa returned to the Iron Islands." She reaches inside her corset and removes a handful of letters. Some of them are old and creased, reread a hundred times. Some are new, with the seal of Winterfell still bright red and the ink bold and bright. He scans the words of Lord Ushijima meant for Moniwa's eyes only.  
  
“He is giving Hinata to him.” Mai whispers, showing Futakuchi one particular letter, crumpled and probably a draft that had ink spilled upon it and was cast away.  
  
“You mean he's ransoming him to the North?”  
  
“No. It's more that he… he is a gift. He calls Hinata ‘the life owed to you, a debt now paid.’” Mai glances nervously at Futakuchi, watching his perplexed expression shift to a slow understanding. He recalls Moniwa's words from days ago.  
  
“Dorne has no claim, he said…” Futakuchi mutters. “He told Sugawara that the North would send for Hinata's head. He challenged Lord Sawamura, asked if Dorne would fight for Hinata.”  
  
“Are you saying that the raid was because Ushijima wanted Hinata? That the bastard was not the target?” They hear loud cheers from the great hall, the heavy sounds of stamping feet. Maybe they have begun to dance with axes.  
  
“No… no, I took Hinata by chance. The bastard was our target, but Moniwa is using our failure to his advantage, to build relations with the North.”  
  
“I…” Mai fidgets with the letters in her hand. “I don't think he needs to improve relations with the North. These letters go for eight years, Kenji. The way they are written, the words Lord Ushijima uses… The eight years apart have only strengthened their bond.” Futakuchi swears under his breath. Hinata is a plague upon their lands. A warg, a wildling. He is nothing but bad luck, and right now, Moniwa is trying his hardest to reverse the horrible tides of fate that kidnapping Hinata have brought them all. He swears again and slams his fist into the stone wall.  
  
"Who the fuck wanted that bastard then? Would Ushijima want him? If not he, then who?"  
  
"I—… I don't know, Kenji. Lord Ushijima, he… he hates that boy. I could see the disdain in his eyes at the coronation, but… kidnapping Tobio would only please King Tooru, who hates Lord Ushijima more than … more than anyone should be able to hate. It wouldn't make sense."  
  
"None of this makes sense. From the raid to the sacrifices. None of it…"  
  
"My lady Mai?" A sudden voice calls from down the hall. Fukiage appears when Mai responds, and he urges them to return to the feast at once. People have started to notice your absence, he says as he wrings his wrists repeatedly. Placing her hands over his, Mai thanks him for his worry and beckons Futakuchi to follow them back. Something strikes Futakuchi then when he sees his fiancee hide the letters again in her tight black corset. Her dress is black and gray with gold lacing, not the colors of Great Wyk but of Pyke.  
  
“Wait— Mai, how did you find these letters?” The feast roars before them, and Mai only gives Futakuchi a quiet, apologetic glance before turning back to the crowd and weaving her way to her crew. He feels the eyes of various crews as he makes his way to where Sakunami sits alone, picking idly at food she has no appetite to eat. Kamasaki's first mate whispers to the navigator from Sasaya's crew. The men of Harlaw and Volmark loom too near, and Futakuchi knows his own crew must sense the unease, the dread in every step he takes.  
  
"Kou?" Futakuchi speaks her name as he takes the seat beside her on the bench. Her dark eyes still follow Koganegawa who is cheering on the crew of Great Wyk as they juggle hand axes. No tears flow, not anymore, but her voice is empty and hoarse when she speaks.  
  
"Our God is cruel. Too cruel." His gaze drifts from the kid to their Lord who stares straight back. Eying how he twists and tugs at his simple, almost crude necklace, ever the thoughtful and nervous habit, Futakuchi raises a hand to stroke the black diamond that decorates his own. Futakuchi wonders if Moniwa feels any pain watching his little cousin weep. Are you too weak to fight, Sugawara had asked.  
  
Or are you simply too scared to take a stand?  
  
Moniwa leans to one of the servants standing near the high table and whispers something to him that sends him scurrying down to where Mai's men are subtly surrounding her, blocking her from the other crews disturbances. The servant excuses his way through and a moment later, Mai sweeps her skirts aside and stands from the table to follow the man to where Moniwa sits. She curtsies before him as is proper, but then his scaled right hand beckons her close until he can gently take her waist and guide her onto his lap. Futakuchi tenses immediately seeing how Moniwa's hands rest on the top of her thigh and the curve of her back. His jaw tightens seeing how she easily wraps an arm around his shoulders to adjust, hand curling in his dark chestnut hair.  
  
The feast is too rowdy, too loud. He cannot hear a single thing and can barely read their lips from the distance he sits away from them. They share a laugh, or at least Mai tries to make Moniwa feel at ease like a lady is trained to do. But Moniwa only smiles. A cold and calculating smile that unnerves Futakuchi and certainly must unnerve Mai. Moniwa's hand moves from the top of her thigh to the curve of her breast. Mai immediately grabs his wrist, and Futakuchi can feel his face burn from a sudden rage. She is his fiancée, the one who would one day be his rock. To see another's hands on her, so shamelessly in front of everyone here in this hall. Futakuchi burns. She seems to say something, but Moniwa kisses her. She does not recoil, no. She would never show her fear so publically, but Futakuchi knows her and sees the way she stiffens. Her hand moves to cup Moniwa's face, perhaps to gently tug him away and warn him against such things. She does not manage to say a single word.  
  
" _Shit!_ " Futakuchi hisses.  
  
Mai's chest rises as Moniwa's gray hand moves under her black laced corset. His fake smile fades, and he pulls out the letters from where Mai had so surely tucked them away. With one glance in Futakuchi's direction, he tells them both that he knew.  
  
" _Mai—!_ " He begins to shout for her, but his view of the high table is blocked by men bearing the sigil of a scythe. The scythe of the Kamasaki family.  
  
"If it isn't the whore of Harlaw himself." Futakuchi draws in a sharp breath like he was slapped. He has not heard this name in many years. Not outright. It has been whispered and laughed behind closed doors, but since the shipwreck, no one had dared to say it to his face. _They can't know that name_ , Futakuchi reassures himself. Some of these men had not even been a part of Kamasaki's crew until more recent years.  
  
"Excuse m—"  
  
"Don't worry about her," The man he recognizes as Kamasaki's helmsman puts a hand on Futakuchi's chest, not pushing him back but merely blocking him from going any further. He nods back towards the high table where Moniwa is whispering something to Mai. "She'll be in good hands with our Lord tonight."  
  
" _She_ is my fiancee, and I will go to her. Now, exc—" The men of Harlaw block Futakuchi's view entirely, moving so they are almost shoulder to shoulder and even Futakuchi's height cannot see past them. They sneer down at him,  
  
"It seems she ain't too interested in being your fiancee if she's bedding another." He grits his teeth, bites back the instinct to yell at these men and start a brawl. Not here, not in his own castle. If he raises his hand first, then he is forfeiting the sacred protection that the host has under guest rite. They ate the salt and bread, but his home provided it. He forces himself to calm down. After all, this is not the first time he has been called these names nor threatened in this way.  
  
"Lady Mai is the ruler of Great Wyk, and that is no way to speak of her."  
  
"That saying about birds of a feather must hold true for whores, eh?" There is a bout of raucous laughter among the men of Harlaw which makes Futakuchi realize that getting around or even merely away from these men will prove more difficult than he wished. Without turning his back to these men, Futakuchi looks to his own crew.  
  
"Obara, take Sakunami to her room for the night, will you?"  
  
"What? Trying to hide the truth from your little navigator? As if you haven't fucked her too."  
  
"Surely your crew knows, Captain Futakuchi, you probably fucked them all to welcome them to the brigade." A game of cards, a game of cards. He and Kamasaki had both spread that lie, but people still whisper what they will. If he whored himself for a ship, he must have whored himself for a crew. It is the furthest thing from the truth, but whispers still went along. These words do not hurt Futakuchi much anymore, but the way these men look at his crew by association make him burn with a long-fought shame.  
  
"You must have fucked that stupid thrall of yours, right? The poor Greenland kid whose blood will be spilt tomorrow morn." Futakuchi had not seen Koganegawa come to gather with the rest of their crew. He likely does not understand what is happening, and Futakuchi had tried to keep the truth from Koganegawa for as long as he could. It is one thing for other captains to know what transpired, but for the boy you raised as if your own? They kept these ugly things far from his ears.  
  
"You know, if you've already fucked your crew, maybe we will try them too. Personally, we'd rather real cunts, but your crew is so full of bitches, so they'll make do." Futakuchi begins to bark an order for his crew to leave at once, but Kamasaki's men are taking hold of them before they can turn and leave. The first mate has hand tight around Futakuchi's upper arm, dragging him close to declare,  
  
"I'll take you for myself, show you the might of Harlaw once more."  
  
"We'd be more than willing to try young Sakunami." The wretched boatswain has Sakunami pinned to the table by the time Futakuchi looks back and despite reaching for her knife, her hands are trapped. "She's so little, she might break."  
  
"Don't—" Koganegawa shouts, bold in his drunken state. The gunner grabs his throat and presses him against the wall. heavy with dread, Futakuchi thinks he might be sick. These are all of Kamasaki's best men, all of his officers. He planned this. _They_ planned this.  
  
"We can't forget the kid, the one this whore so dearly calls his own. We should show him one last night before he's given to God.”  
  
“Kenji, please—" Sakunami screams.  
  
“Your Lord cousin can't help you now.”  
  
  
  
There is the sound of cracking bone. The dull, hard back of an ax smashes through the gunner's lower arm, completely crippling him and freeing the kid at the same time. He will be a useless gunner now, Futakuchi thinks to himself.  
  
It happens too quick for Futakuchi to think. Half of Kamasaki's men are on the floor, there is a broken table where Aone threw the Harlaw navigator. Obara stabbed his knife through the boatswain's wrist, forcing him to release Sakunami. Onagawa has his arm around Koganegawa, and they disappear within a moment down a corridor and far from the chaos of the feast and its fighting. Futakuchi realizes their entire crew is gone within moments, and a heartbeat later he has Aone's hand tightly in his own as they flee the Great Hall as fast as their feet will go.  
  
They broke guest rite, not I, Futakuchi reassures himself. The guards of Castle Drumm will calm the fight, will take the men to their rooms to be in seclusion until dawn breaks. We will be fine, he tells himself but even the sound of Aone barring their chamber door does not soothe his fear.  
  
"Taka—" He exhales as Aone suddenly gathers him into his arms. Futakuchi's hands shake as he yanks at the other's jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and then tugging the laces of his shirt open until he can kiss at Aone's pale, thick neck and sink his teeth into his skin. He gasps out a demand as he feels Aone finally respond. "Fuck me."  
  
Sometimes they make love. Most of the time Futakuchi would call it making love. This, whoever, this has no love at all.  
  
Aone's fingers are barely in him, barely starting to prepare his body before Futakuchi snarls at him just to hurry up. I can handle it, he says with his mouth at Aone's ear, hand on Aone's cock, stroking him to hardness with familiar ease. Perhaps it is the fight still pulsing through their veins, perhaps it is a culmination of events from weeks and weeks of endless shit. Aone shoves Futakuchi back on the bed, flips him over onto his hands and knees, and enters him as hurriedly as Futakuchi had demanded. He cries out. His hands grab the sheets underneath them, crumpling the black and red fabrics as Aone grabs his hips to hold him still.  
  
"Move—" He begins to say but is cut off by a sharp thrust that makes him lose all words. It is frantic. It is needy and brutal and every thrust fills Futakuchi and stretches him painfully and makes him gasp or sob or shout. It is awful and awesome, and Futakuchi fucks himself back on Aone desperately. He refuses to think of Mai, how Moniwa is abed with her at the very same moment. He refuses to think of his grayed hand holding the soft curve of her hip as he pushes into her, makes her cry out his name as he so blatantly desecrated their vow of engagement, as he claims her as his own.  
  
Sweat beads on his forehead, tears prickle at the edge of his eyes. This is not love. They can love any other night, but this is what they need tonight. Between the lack of conversation and the loud sounds of their bodies abusing one another, they are more like animals than people. They are beasts.  
  
He sees blood drip onto the sheets and tastes the metallic tang of where his lip must have been bitten by himself or Aone at some point in time. The taste makes him go hot all over, and he thinks yes. We are more beasts than men. We are like animals being led to slaughter.  
  
  
  
He barely remembers their orgasm. He remembers a pressure on his neck as he choked out Aone's name, he remembers the feeling of heat as Aone kept thrusting into him long after Futakuchi had gone limp. Now, he watches Aone redress himself slowly as exhaustion overwhelms them both. His eyes grow heavy, and Futakuchi feels empty now. Empty and only the echoes of words said by Kamasaki's crew sound in his head. He pulls his knees to his chest and feels a great doubt overtake him.  
  
_One last night_.  
  
"Don't do this."  
  
Aone does not turn to look at him as he speaks.  
  
"Takanobu." His voice catches on the name, but he knows he must go on. "Don’t," He begs, "Don't you dare tear apart our family like this. Even if he is not iron, he is still family."  
  
Aone hesitates to move.  
  
"I'll never forgive you, Takanobu."  
  
  
  
Knocking wakes him.  
  
He wakes alone.  
  
The other side of the bed is cold, and Futakuchi sees none of Aone's clothes, not his weapons nor anything. The knocking continues and sends an awful panic through him. He stumbles to pull on his breeches and open the door.  
  
"Yutaka." Futakuchi breathes as he looks at the tired and worried expression on Obara's face. Obara pays no mind to Futakuchi's dress, only looks past him to see who else was there. His disappointment is visible when Aone is unseen.  
  
"We can't find Kogane, and..."  
  
"And what?" Futakuchi almost yells.  
  
"And the sacrifices are about to begin."  
  
  
  
Futakuchi stirs his horse as quick as he will go. The other crews will have gone a route around the coast, to wade in the ocean's waters and become immersed in the smell of salt and the feel of their god's power. Futakuchi takes his men a shorter path, a pass through the black hills. They are the last crew to arrive as the servants of the faith sound the drums and begin to chant ancient hymns. Futakuchi climbs down off his horse quickly and practically shoves his way through the crowds to find Mai. She refuses his embrace with a wary glance to where Moniwa stands yards away, hand always clutching his necklace as a septon clutches his beads of faith. Futakuchi bitterly thinks that that tiny shard of dragonglass cannot and will not protect him here among salt and stone. As usual, Kamasaki and Sasaya flank him.  
  
"Did he—?" Futakuchi starts, and he notes that her hair is bound tight in a braided circlet around her head, black ribbons woven in. His hand flies to where Red Rain is strapped to his waist. "Did he force you? Tell me if he did and I will spill his blood on Nagga's bones, I swear—"  
  
"No." Mai whispers as she brings a hand to cup Futakuchi's face. He had not realized how terribly he was shaking until now. "He asked. He asked me to share his bed, and I accepted."  
  
" _Why_?"  
  
"He promised if I was with him, you and Aone would be safe for the night. So I accepted. Willingly." She emphasizes the last word, knowing that Futakuchi's threat to kill Moniwa was true. He would kill half the kingdom for his family. Looking around for any listeners, Mai lowers her voice even more.  
  
"He was good to me, which... is more than any other man would've done considering what I did." She means the letters, the spying, Futakuchi knows. It had never been with malicious intent that Mai spied on Moniwa. Futakuchi was the grandson of a lesser lord of the islands. He had not been privy to any of the court's ongoings when he first became a captain, and even know he is hardly ever in the know. On the contrary, Mai rules Great Wyk in her own right and had Moniwa's trust. Futakuchi only ever wanted to know what was happening so that he could better plan for his own island's survival. Perhaps the letters had pushed Moniwa too far. Perhaps that was a line they could never uncross. Those letters were too private and it was too unforgivable that they had taken them.  
  
Mai swears he was good to her, and Futakuchi — despite his anger — is thankful for that.  
  
Mai draws his attention again with a slight movement of her chin past Moniwa to where Kamasaki and Sasaya stand. Her thumb strokes his cheek soothingly.  
  
"They were there." She murmurs as Kamasaki gazes over at them. Futakuchi feels sick when he smirks back, but Mai forces Futakuchi to look only at her. "Kenji, they only watched. That's all."  
  
"He said Taka and I would be safe?" She nods to this, and Futakuchi whispers that they were only safe because Kamasaki and Sasaya were elsewhere. He can only imagine the shame Mai must have felt. To be watched by men she knows are more dangerous than any of the other ironborn, to have to put on a show. He knows it was all to protect them. He struggles to maintain his composure, but Mai forces him to turn to watch Oiwake and the other priests who climb to the top of Nagga's bones to begin the sacrifices.  
  
Legend spoke of a mighty dragon, perhaps mightier than the Valyrian kings. Oiwake always told him that she ate men and monsters alike and ruled the seas, bending them to her will. Only the Grey King could match her, and in the end, he conquered her as he would come to conquer all of the Iron Islands. Her bones made his hall, her teeth made his crown. Futakuchi counted each of the stone ribs as a child, counted to forty four and danced between them as he and Aone told each other this most famous tale. Nagga's bones were proof of the olden days, they were proof of iron glory.  
  
Drums sound all around them. It is a hard and pounding beat. Oiwake calls out the words of old,  
  
"What is dead may never die."  
  
"But rises again, harder and stronger." Moniwa responds, his voice strong and clear. Both hands rest at his side. A Lord Reaper must not fidget before his men. He must be strong, unwavering as iron itself.  
  
"What is dead may never die." Oiwake repeats.  
  
" _But rises again, harder and stronger!_ " The crowd roars.  
  
Chanting drowns out all other thoughts. Futakuchi can only stare as the sacrifices begin and Oiwake's ax slices into the thick throat of an ox. It roars in pain, and Oiwake is quick to deliver a second and third blow until it is limp and bleeding crimson red across the earth and the sacred bones. Devotees carry the beast away to bleed. Each lord brings his offerings to Oiwake to be blessed or slaughtered. Mai presents her gifts with a trembling hand. A meager offering was asked of her because her and her people have always been devout and good to the faith. Kamasaki must give more, and Futakuchi looks away from the animals as their blood splatters messily onto the ground.  
  
One by one, each captain sacrifices to the Drowned God. One by one, Nagga's bones become soaked in blood that then trickles down to the seaside to bleed into the sea. There is only one captain left, Futakuchi realizes. A captain that no one has seen yet this day.  
  
"The kid!" Someone yells. Everyone turns.  
  
"Sacrifice the kid! The kid, the kid! Sacrifice the kid!" The crowd's chanting overwhelms the sound of drums, and the drums only get louder and louder as Aone appears, parting the crowd without a single gesture or word. Futakuchi feels his chest tighten, his heart seizes. Koganegawa walks just behind him. He wears the drab clothes of a thrall meant for sacrifice. His eyes are cast downward, his cheeks stained with tears. Aone has a basket strung across his back and refuses to look away from the drowned priest Oiwake.  
  
"The kid! The kid!" Futakuchi tries to rush forward and grab Koganegawa away, but the devotees hold him back and he shouts Koganegawa's name. The kid looks at him, then bursts into tears once more.  
  
"Taka! Don’t do this! Taka, please!" Futakuchi screams. Aone does not turn to him.  
  
Oiwake raises his hands to silence them all. The chanting, the drums. Even the sea seems to still when Oiwake demands. Futakuchi feels all his fight freeze up as he watches Aone make his choice. Please, Futakuchi prays. Please—  
  
"Do you sacrifice today in the name of the Drowned God?"  
  
"I do so sacrifice." Aone kneels, hands moving to cup the basket as he brings it off his shoulder. He places the basket in Koganegawa's trembling hands and reaches inside to bring out a little, bleating goat.  
  
The kid.  
  
Aone tells Koganegawa he may leave, and the thrall boy practically trips over himself running from the top of Nagga's bones. Futakuchi shoves at the priests blocking his way and rushes to meet Koganegawa. He knows everyone is watching, he knows everyone is cursing them for not sacrificing Koganegawa. He is but a thrall, he is not even iron. But he is their family, and Futakuchi thanks god that he showed Aone another way.  
  
"You're okay, you're okay—" Futakuchi murmurs against Koganegawa's hair. The kid is shaking like a leaf in the winter wind, and Futakuchi guides him away from it all, guides him back to where their crew stands. His hand covers Koganegawa's eyes, "You're safe, Kanji. You're okay."  
  
"I've got you." He whispers, glancing up at Oiwake and Aone just to see the blade silence the struggling little goat. "I've always got you."  
  
  
  
Futakuchi had forgotten that Onagawa murmurs in his sleep. He had forgotten that Obara wiggles incessantly and Sakunami's soft breathing stutters when she is dreaming. Koganegawa had been silent the entire night, curling close against Futakuchi's chest as they came to crash on the bed hours after the ceremonies ended. Their bodies ached, their hands were worn from washing the vast expanse of Nagga's bones where blood upon blood stained the white stone. No one bothered to do anything but remove their belts and boots before collapsing in the small cottage by the sea. Every other crew returned to their ship, returned to their own islands and keeps, but Futakuchi's men wordlessly shared the burden of cleaning Nagga's bones and then wordlessly marched back to the cottage to spend the night together.  
  
Everything outside of their little home felt like a threat. Every corner turned, every empty passage and even the open air seemed to loom about them in a menacing way.  
  
"Kenji?" Koganegawa whimpers softly, stirring Futakuchi from his half-asleep thoughts. It had been a long while since this many people crammed into the cottage, let alone spent the night there. Futakuchi was unable to sleep, and he is glad for it now when he sees tears welling at the corners of the kid's eyes. Without rustling around too much, Futakuchi moves one arm from its protective grip around Kogane to wipe at his eyes, smiling albeit thin and strained. He whispers his fears and pulls at Futakuchi's heart.  
  
He presses his lips to Koganegawa's forehead sweetly,  
  
"Iron or not, you are our family." He murmurs. "We raised you. We love you, and nothing else matters." He moves to pet the kid's messy blonde hair and pull him close again, cradling him against his shoulder and he prays his heart is beating steadily so not to show the brief panic, the hint of betrayal against their god.  
  
"Not even the Drowned God himself will take you from us."  
  
  
  
There is no sign of movement as dawn cracks through the windows and the next day inches closer to the cottage. The fight at the feast, the nerves of the sacrifices, the relief of seeing which choice Aone had made. It took everything from the crew, all their energy and liveliness. He rises without rustling the other bodies in the bed and carefully, so carefully slips out of Onagawa's arms and watches him easily latch onto Koganegawa instead. They settle close as ever, and only Sakunami even hints at wakefulness as she groans and wiggles up to Kogane again. Stepping over sleeping bodies of their crew sprawled across the floor, Futakuchi winds his way downstairs where he hears the fire crackling in preparation for their morning meal. Futakuchi recalls seeing their cabin girl, a younger sibling of the Obara clan, passed out in the armchair upstairs, so she could not have been the one tending to the flames all night long. He hears a little bell tinkling and then the soft curl of Princess around his ankles. He tries to pick her up, but she prances back to the sofa where Futakuchi catches sight of Aone there.  
  
He pads over quietly and nudges the dog off Aone's lap with a word or two. Aone raises his head as Futakuchi crawls into his lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around the other's broad shoulders. He utters thanks in the form of a kiss, and Aone understands. His hands go to Futakuchi's slimmer waist as he grinds down softly on Aone.  
  
Thank you, he says in these touches. Thank you for making the right choice. Thank you for not killing our Kanji.  
  
Aone's hand strays to stroke his side, curl under his shirt and push against the warm expanse of his back which makes Futakuchi shudder pleasantly. He rocks his hips and hears a distant sigh.  
  
"C'mon, you two. Everyone is sleeping." Futakuchi turns to see their gunner half-heartedly covering his eyes, probably expecting worse than the light touches they had been exchanging in truth. It is not as if most of the crew had not walked in on them at one point or another. Futakuchi laughs a bit but does courteously pull back from his love.  
  
"Not you, apparently."  
  
"And us." A little mumble sounds from the staircase where Sakunami sleepily weaves her way down with Kogane in tow. Futakuchi declares that they will start to cook then, so they may break their fast and go about their days. He looks back to Aone for a brief moment, but catches only a glimpse of his solemn expression before the other rests his forehead against Futakuchi's shoulder to hide his heart away.  
  
  
  
They return to Pyke on Moniwa's request. It comes as a letter to see Sakunami, as she is their lord's cousin, but Futakuchi knows the force behind these words and does not dare deny him. Futakuchi tries to get Kogane to stay behind, stay at the cottage with Onagawa and another but the kid refuses to leave their sides. He is afraid, Futakuchi knows. He has felt a similar fear. Aone must know Futakuchi's sympathy for Kogane, as he was the one Futakuchi would not let stray more than a few yards when they were sixteen. He had been too nervous of Kamasaki's crew, too nervous of any face that was not Aone's. He allows the kid to come with.  
  
Only Sakunami is allowed by the Pyke guard to enter the Sea Tower, and Futakuchi imagines that the twenty-four year old is pacing within his solar, fidgeting with his dragonglass necklace and not speaking a single word. What did he ask the Drowned God for, Futakuchi wonders as he watches the Sea Tower with all its secrets and suspicions. The ships of the Lord Captain and the Leviathan had not been docked at Lordsport, and they were assumed to be back at Harlaw and Volmark respectively. Moniwa is alone now, and Futakuchi knows that lonely men are dangerous men.  
  
He hears the obnoxious cry of a gull above him as he turns back and heads down the wooden bridge. It makes him think of a boy with burning golden eyes.  
  
Shit.  
  
Shit, shit, shit.  
  
Futakuchi does not remember whether he saw any unfamiliar ships at port. Surely none bore the sigil of the north, not in iron territory. But Kamasaki and Sasaya were both not there either. Their ships might not be home, but instead sailing north. To Saltspear and then up the Fever River to Torrhen's Square. From Torrhen's, then to Winterfell.  
  
Futakuchi races to the dungeons. He cannot be gone, the boy cannot be gone. He has too many answers to questions and riddles yet unsolved. Moniwa cannot have thrown him to the wolves yet.  
  
The gaoler fumbles with the keys too long for Futakuchi's thread-bare patience, but blessedly, when he gets the cell door open, Futakuchi finds the red-headed boy laying on his cot quietly facing the wall. Too quietly. Futakuchi warily approaches the boy's supposed sleeping form and at first glance, he seems to have color on his skin and after a moment, Futakuchi sees his chest rise and fall. There are a few uneaten meals on the floor, and the boy's form looks visibly thinner than before. When asked, the gaoler says he has not moved for many days.  
  
"His eyes went white one day, and I couldn't stand t'look at him like that, ya see." Futakuchi swallows his fear as he puts his hand on Hinata's shoulder and turns him over onto his back. His eyes are blank and hollow, sending an immediate shudder across Futakuchi's skin. He sends the gaoler away with a gesture and is left alone. Glancing about at one discarded and bloodied wrapping, he sees that the boy only changed his bandages once. Futakuchi rummages about quietly looking for the opium that Mai had left in case the pain got to be too much. He finds the small bottle under Hinata's cot, having rolled under at some point. When he overturns it, Futakuchi finds not a drop remains. He pockets the bottle with a sigh and delicately takes Hinata's hand into his own to begin redressing the wounds and splinting them properly once again. Afterwards, Futakuchi sits against the opposite wall and waits. And waits. And waits.  
  
The scene at Nagga's bones replays over in his head a couple dozen times. His nails digs hard into his arm as he thinks of how — for just a minute — he truly believed Aone was going to kill Koganegawa. For just a minute, his faith in Aone wavered and the Drowned God knew. Was that my test? Futakuchi wonders as he watches the suddenly stirring form of the wildling boy. Was that Him trying me?  
  
Hinata's gold eyes look more wild than before, more wild than any beast Futakuchi has seen. He instinctively presses himself further into the wall when Hinata turns his gaze his way.  
  
The words coming from his mouth make no sense at all; they are the sounds of breaking ice and screeching metal, and Futakuchi cannot fathom that it is a language at all. Hinata curls in on himself defensively and flinches when he tries to move his hands. He has been out of his body for so long, he has forgotten himself, Futakuchi realizes. His mind is not that of a man, not anymore. The horror of this makes Futakuchi want to shy away from the wildling even more, but he thinks of Mai's words.  
  
Poor boy, you are so far from home.  
  
"Hinata?" Futakuchi tries to call him a few times, but he does not respond except to snarl at the ironborn when he began to inch closer. His name, call him by his name, Futakuchi seems to hear from the wind.  
  
"Shoyo?" Hinata tilts his head when Futakuchi utters his name. He calls it again, and an air of calmness seems to wash over him. His shoulders slump a bit, his whole body exhales and grows smaller. Futakuchi repeats the name a half dozen times, stepping closer and closer until he manages to sit on the far end of the cot with Hinata.  
  
"Do you know who I am?" He had not had much interaction with the boy since his capture almost two months ago. Futakuchi counts the weeks and thinks that it must be two and a half months since the raid on the Arbor. "Do you remember?"  
  
"Takanobu."  
  
"No." Futakuchi sighs, "I'm Kenji. Takanobu is bigger, with white hair—" He stops suddenly as Hinata's hand reaches out to him. He stills, startled. Hinata's unbandaged left hand ghosts over Futakuchi's bare throat where the bruises have only just begun to fade. His finger hooks around the pendant, and he thumbs the black jewel there.  
  
"Takanobu." Hinata croaks, and Futakuchi finally comprehends the message he is trying to convey. He does not know Futakuchi, but he knows who he is. He thinks of all the hours Aone spent here in the dungeons. It is likely that Aone told Hinata about giving Futakuchi the necklace for his twentieth nameday. The realization that Aone told such a private, intimate story unnerves Futakuchi more than the boy's madness. This wildling, this outsider knows their love, knows how much he needs Aone, and even how Aone needs him. Not even their crew knows how they would break without each other. Futakuchi's face burns hot in frustration and anger, but he forces himself to interrogate the boy as much as he can before Moniwa gifts him to Winterfell.  
  
"Why does Lord Ushijima want you?" Hinata's head snaps up when Futakuchi says Ushijima's name. His eyes go wide in fear and then his lips curl in a disdainful snarl. He repeats the question but gets nowhere.  
  
"What is the debt owed to Ushijima? Why do you satisfy the debt?" Hinata spits on the ground, detesting the name of the northern lord. Futakuchi knows that the North has hated wildlings for many years since the war, since that monster of a man slayed hundreds of their men. In Moniwa's letter, however, he named Hinata specifically instead of calling him a simple wildling. What had this boy done to warrant Ushijima's undivided attention?  
  
He was not the original target, Futakuchi reminds himself. The raid on the Arbor had been for the bastard, black of hair and of much importance for whatever plan Moniwa had in the works.  
  
"Would Ushijima want to kidnap the bastard Tobio?" He and Mai had already reasoned that it would be counterintuitive for the North to order Tobio's capture, as it would only please the crowned Oikawa, but he wanted Hinata's thoughts. As mad as they were. He laughs this time, hoarse and like an animal cackling.  
  
"Who then? Who would order us to kidnap the bastard?"  
  
" _Magnar_." Hinata gives. Magnar, magnar, magnar. Futakuchi demands him to say it in the Common Tongue, not this language of old. Hinata repeats the word endlessly, and Futakuchi's temper snaps. He grabs the boy by his dirty and tattered shirt, but Hinata immediately sinks his claws — for they are more claws than fingers now — into Futakuchi's wrists.  
  
"King." He hisses as Futakuchi is forced to let go.  
  
"I know that you think him the true king, but he is a bastard prince. An exile we were ordered to take. Do you know who ordered us?" Hinata curls his hands against his head and curls in on himself, making himself smaller and smaller. Magnar, magnar, magnar, he says. Futakuchi curses in disappointment and leaves, slamming the cell door before the gaoler comes ambling over to lock it.  
  
  
  
Most of the crew is below deck in their sleeping quarters by the time Futakuchi returns to the ship at night. They do not dare to sleep in the castle Pyke for their enemies would outnumber them there. Here in the harbor, without the Lord Captain and Leviathan's ships nearby, they feel safe. For now. He spots Aone leaning on the rail of the quarterdeck, facing outwards to the sea. Hearing Futakuchi's footsteps near, Aone straightens but does not turn.  
  
"How is he?" Aone asks without prompting when Futakuchi rests his hands on Aone's broad shoulders.  
  
"He has lost his mind." He presses a kiss between Aone's shoulders sympathetically before he speaks. "I think... rather than this, it would be better if Hinata died. If someone put him out of his miser—"  
  
"No." Aone says sharply. His shoulders tense, his body readies itself for battle, and it startles Futakuchi away a step or two. Futakuchi can see him clenching his jaw furiously. "I did not save the kid only to kill the boy."  
  
"Is it good to just let him rot in that cell then? Let him talk to birds and lose himself completely?" He forces Aone to turn, shoves at his shoulder until Aone finally looks him in the eyes. "I have no qualms with that, Taka. He is not our family, but Kanji is."  
  
He is silent. Too silent.  
  
"Was _that_ your question?" Incredulous, Futakuchi's mind screams. "Is that what you asked the Drowned God when you made your sacrifice, when you almost killed _our son_?" Futakuchi has never had the courage to call Koganegawa his own. There is no blood between them, only the spilled blood of his true father from Seagard. The islands jokingly called him their child though, and by god, he was. Is. This wildling, Futakuchi thinks, will not come between our family.  
  
"Is he worth ruining your life for? Your family?"  
  
Aone casts his gaze to the deck. Not a word escapes him. Futakuchi shakes his head and steps back again, praying this is not happening. Please don't let this be true.  
  
"Would you have killed him? If Oiwake asked for Kanji's blood specifically, would you have killed him?"  
  
The tide at night crashes along the boat's hull.  
  
Aone says yes.  
  
"And if he asked for me?" Futakuchi says, barely above a whisper but he knows his voice carried along the wind for he sees Aone cringe at the demand.  
  
"What if it was me, Taka?!" He screams. Aone was his safety, his love. His home.  
  
Yanking hard, Futakuchi tears off his necklace and, when Aone still refuses to look at him, curses him and hurls it into the black sea far below.  
  
"If the Drowned God, your God, had asked you to give him my life, would you have accepted? Would you have sacrificed me there on Nagga's bones?"  
  
Aone cannot look him in the eye, so Futakuchi grabs his face and forces him to look.  
  
"Would you?!"  
  
"I don't know." Aone breathes, and it breaks Futakuchi's heart. "He has not asked this of me."  
  
Futakuchi's heart beats in his throat. The salt of his tears stings worse than the salt of the sea.  
  
"Why...? Why would you need to sacrifice something so great? What are you going to do?"  
  
Aone's hands come to rest over Futakuchi's.  
  
"I'm going to free Hinata."  
  
  
  
“Captain?” The wind carries Obara's voice to the crow's nest as he climbs the mast to meet him. It is the post of the navigator, but Futakuchi curls himself away from view of their crew for now.  
  
Magnar, magnar, magnar. The word repeats itself in Futakuchi's head, paining him and making him cringe with each whisper that the wind carries. It all sounds like blood and ice and the gnashing of wolves' teeth. Obara's words are those of winter, and it is maddening. He can think only of the boy, his burning eyes and the fire of his hair. Chanting, chanting.  
  
Magnar.  
  
Magnar.  
  
_Magnar_.  
  
He snaps at Obara to leave him be.  
  
  
  
Laughter overtook him as he broke the surface of the water. He watched the Harlawan ship wreck upon the cruel stony cliffs. A great smile overtook Aone's face, and Futakuchi thought to himself that it was such a beautiful sight indeed. They treaded water as they kissed and laughed and whispered promises. Futakuchi wound his arms around Aone's neck loosely and looked into his eyes for a moment and a lifetime all at once.  
  
"You are my one."  
  
  
  
He wishes he had the pain of the black diamond digging into the palm of his hand as he finds Aone in the cargo hold. He wishes his nervous habit could ground him now, watching Aone furtively gather supplies. Futakuchi forces himself to banish all thoughts of treason.  
  
"You are my one." His voice echoes around the hull and makes Aone stop his search suddenly. His eyes meet Futakuchi's own, and he knows he is not alone in this venture.  
  
  
  
He stretches his knees to rid them of their stiffness. It has been hours, waiting and waiting for the gaoler to make water so Futakuchi might slip sweetsleep into his ale. At last, the portly man waddles upstairs and gives Futakuchi the opportunity he needs. His steps are lighter than Aone, and although there are few prisoners on this level of the dungeon, they cannot risk anyone knowing their deeds. Even their own crew was left clueless in the hopes that should they be caught, they could not be found complicit. It is not much longer after the gaoler's return that he imbibes the drugged drink and slowly slumps down in his seat, unconscious. Delicately, Futakuchi removes the keys from the table and hurries to where Aone peers into Hinata's small cell window.  
  
"He looks to be sleeping, but his mind could be elsewhere." Futakuchi still remembers the feral state of him during their last encounter and hopes for the boy to only be asleep. Aone shakes his shoulder gently and watches the boy's glassy eyes open slowly. He seems to sense Futakuchi before he sees him, for he reaches to grab Aone's shirt sleeve and tug him close in a defensive way. Aone murmurs his name to call his attention to him and him only. Hinata watches Aone for a long time, and something about their silent communication bothers Futakuchi greatly. He checks the hallway for a chance to look away from the intimacy before him.  
  
He hears Hinata strip out of his ragged robes; his once orange and red shirt is dirtied with mud and dirt and the like. His once dark black breeches had tattered edges and bits of straw from his thin mattress stuck to it semi-permanently. The clothes they brought for him to disguise himself with were Sakunami's originally, but they both stood the same height and thankfully, their navigator never dressed as a woman anymore. They are styled in the iron fashion, drab linens in blues and grays finished with a tunic of lighter wool hiding under the dark cloak Aone wrapped around Hinata's shoulders and worn leather boots. Aone helps Hinata tuck his wild red hair under a typical leather hat. The ironborn have no families with red hair like this, and it would be the most obvious indicator that he is the wildling prisoner the islands have gossiped about.  
  
The dungeons wind down through the great rock that makes up the base of Pyke's castle. The windows at the top of the dungeons disappear, and everything becomes dark and dank. They are lead with no light of their own, only an occasional torch at the beginning of a passage that then fades into damp shadows. Futakuchi's hand trails along the moist wall, feeling cell doors grow fewer and fewer. He reminds himself he must not turn left at the darkest part of the tunnel. Go right and you will find light soon enough and then after that, the cave at the bottom of the cliff. Go left and you will find the most vile of prisoners, the men who even they cruel ironborn have deemed unworthy to ever see the light of day again.  
  
Futakuchi hears Hinata's feet catch underneath him, and a soft grunt tells Futakuchi that Aone quickly caught him. As they continue walking, Futakuchi hears only his footsteps and Aone's. He is carrying the boy, he realizes without trying to hide his scowl. The darkness of the dungeons will hide the darkness in himself. He will be okay when day breaks upon the horizon. It will not be long now.  
  
Only one man patrols the dock, Futakuchi motions when they reach the surface cave. Aone sets Hinata gently back on his feet and tucks him out of sight behind Futakuchi's taller form. Within moment, Aone has a tight arm around the guard's neck squeezing until he slumps unconscious. The night temperature agrees with them, and as they load Hinata into the rowboat, Futakuchi notes that he should not be cold as he rows back to shore. His eyes linger on Aone's hand that takes more than a few seconds to part from Hinata's own.  
  
He waits, expectant. Aone does not part from the boy.  
  
"Taka?" His voice betrays the worry that has built up in his heart. Finally, Aone steps back onto the docks fully to face Futakuchi.  
  
"I must go with him to shore," Before Futakuchi can protest, he continues. "Shoyo's right hand still has not healed entirely, and he is not an experienced rower. He will be exhausted by only a few hundred yards. I must." Futakuchi stares incredulously at his partner.  
  
"You must? Don't lie; you want to go with him. You want to—" Aone cuts him off with a hard and insistent kiss, surely bruising Futakuchi's lips as he lets his honesty be known.  
  
"I must." He murmurs against Futakuchi's mouth, but Futakuchi still shoves at Aone's chest lightly. He does not believe. Not fully. Not until Aone reaches into his pocket to pull out the shining black pendant. The pendant Futakuchi hurled into the sea nights ago. He presses it into Futakuchi's hands as their lips brush, gentler. Just once more.  
  
"Kenji, I love you."  
  
  
  
The crackling of the flames lulls Koganegawa to sleep. His arms loosely circle Futakuchi's torso, and his head drops off to the side. Futakuchi rests back against him comfortably, fingers twirling the black diamond repeatedly.  
  
"Where is Aone?" Koganegawa had asked when Futakuchi came back to the cottage hours later, eyes red and puffy. "Why is he not with you?"  
  
No answers came to Futakuchi at that time. What was he supposed to say? He is gone? He left me — us — for a wildling boy?  
  
No, Futakuchi thought. It is better to not say a word. A part of him still hoped as he felt the diamond's warmth in his hand. A part of him hoped.  
  
He watches the flames until his eyelids grow heavy and the smell of the ocean from the open window calms his whirlwind mind. Everything focuses to the thought of Aone's hands. He held Futakuchi's face with those hands as they kissed, he held a sword to protect him and their home with those hands. He held Futakuchi at night as they moved against one another and made love.  
  
He held Hinata with those hands.  
  
Futakuchi feels Aone's big, rough hands covering his own. He knows how his hand fits in Aone's, has had the sensation memorized for years. He can even seen his face before him like a dream, light from the fire making a soft glow around his head like a halo. Blessed son, indeed.  
  
"Aone?" Koganegawa mutters sleepily. That single utterance of his name makes Futakuchi snap to attention. Aone's hand tightens gently around his; it is not a dream. He murmurs for the two of them to go to sleep upstairs.  
  
"You'll get aches, sleeping on the sofa always." He says, even though Futakuchi can see the weariness overtaking Aone. It had been two days, almost three since Futakuchi watched the quiet rowboat disappear into the darkness of the sea. He surges forward to kiss Aone and assure himself this is all real. He came back.  
  
"I'll, uh... go to my room, then." Koganegawa awkwardly starts to shift away from the two of them, but Aone breaks the kiss as soon as he speaks. He suggests that the kid stays with Futakuchi, while he himself will take the sofa. Futakuchi rests his forehead on Aone's broad shoulder and inhales the smell of sweat and the sea. He is home, Futakuchi thinks gratefully.  
  
As Futakuchi heads upstairs, he hears Koganegawa start to ask Aone questions, but the elder silences him and just presses a quiet kiss to his forehead. A silent thank you, in Aone's way. He holds Futakuchi's gaze as the two go upstairs to sleep.  
  
  
  
He stands on the second to last step and looks out on their little home. Aone is gone. He is gone, and Futakuchi is alone again. Tiredly, Futakuchi sits down and puts his head in his hands.  
  
  
  
Three days later, as they are returning from the castle Hammerhorn, Futakuchi feels sick. He has felt ill since Aone spoke those dreadful words of intent. He has felt ill since Hinata chanted that awful word over and over. But this is something else, he realizes as Mai's men murmur amongst themselves about a newly docked ship here at Pebbleton. Futakuchi recognizes the pitch black hull and grey sails. His stomach lurches.  
  
They hear no noise from the eerie black ship as they move to board their own. Futakuchi bitterly thinks back to the ambush at the Arbor. How reminiscent of that is this scene before them now. With a quiet word, Futakuchi decides to board their own ship alone. Stay back, he instructs firmly and although there are concerned glances among the crew, they obey.  
  
He grips the hilt of Red Rain tightly.  
  
"Sasaya." He greets with an even tone. The Leviathan sneers at him from across the deck. Having heard this name, Futakuchi's crew moves to board the ship, but he thrusts out his free hand to tell them to stay back.  
  
"Kenji of House Futakuchi," Sasaya drawls as he stands to pace around Futakuchi's rigid form. The men from Volmark loom, weapons not drawn but nearby. "By order of the Lord Reaper, I am to see you to the isle of Pyke... immediately... where you will be tried for crimes against the crown."  
  
"How dare you accuse our captain—" Obara starts to ascend the bridge.  
  
"Your captain—" Sasaya yells, startingly everyone. "—is a goddamned traitor! Both of them are. We've already got Aone's confession." The words sting worse than Futakuchi thought they would, yet at the same time, he feels numb. He does not really believe Aone would fess up. Not Aone. Futakuchi forces his voice to be steady,  
  
"What charges exactly has Lord Moniwa set against me?"  
  
"Treason." Sasaya grits out as he forces Futakuchi to surrender himself to his men. Futakuchi unstraps Red Rain as if to hand it over, but quickly hurls it over towards where Obara expertly catches it. The Leviathan might take me, Futakuchi resigns, but he will not take my sword. He holds his tongue for the entire journey, refusing even a single word. He does not know that Aone confessed for certain, and he knows not to give anything up on his own.  
  
Sasaya and his first mate take too much joy in dragging Futakuchi by his upper arms into the Great Hall where they throw him before the Seastone throne. He catches himself before his face drags along the hard stone, but when he struggles to his feet and looks around, he sees each and every lord of the Iron Islands summoned here to Pyke. Even Sakunami's father from the isle of Lonely Light stands with his eldest son. Bitterly, Futakuchi tells himself that Lord Sakunami's presence is a mere fluke. It takes eight days to sail to the nearest island from Lonely Light, and they freed Hinata only six days past. Looking around, he sees Sakunami enter alongside the rest of the crew from Old Wyk. Shortly thereafter, Mai enters with a tightly-concealed expression of fear. Her eyes find Futakuchi, but she does not approach him. No one approaches.  
  
Murmurs of " _my lord_ " resound throughout the room as the doors creak open once more. Futakuchi turns to watch him. His robes of deep black and gold lacing look regal, and for a moment, Futakuchi dreads that when Sasaya said he was charged with crimes against the crown, he meant to say that Moniwa had declared himself High King. For a moment, Futakuchi thinks that Moniwa has decided to wear the driftwood crown.  
  
He stops just after he passes Futakuchi, as if remembering. Turning, he grabs Futakuchi's jacket and demands to know why he is not kneeling before his lord. Although the self-title of lord relieves him, he hides a cringe as he sinks to his knees under Moniwa's tight grasp. Moniwa releases him roughly and turns back to the dais to take his throne.  
  
"Bring in the prisoner!" He shouts.  
  
Led by Kamasaki and two heavy-set guards, Aone is bound with heavy chains and fetters around his ankles and wrists. His face has been bruised, and Futakuchi's heart aches to see him now. Kamasaki himself shoves Aone to his knees with a horrible smirk. Aone does not look at him when he raises his head. If he did, Futakuchi might break.  
  
"Takanobu Aone, you have been brought here today for the crime of freeing the wildling prisoner Shoyo Hinata. Do you deny this?"  
  
"No," Aone says quietly, almost contrite. "My Lord Reaper, I do not deny."  
  
Moniwa grips his throne tightly.  
  
"Do you deny that you conspired against me, your liege lord, and my council?"  
  
"Yes," He says more firmly than before. "I did not conspire to hurt you or anyone on your council. I freed Hinata because it was the right thing t—"  
  
"Do not speak except to answer my questions, traitor." The room feels as silent as death itself. There exists only rage in this place. No love nor fraternity, and certainly no god.  
  
"Do you deny that you had help?" Moniwa snarls, and Futakuchi knows the entire audience has their eyes on him at that moment. He and Aone are partners in all things. It is only logical to assume futakuchi would have been his partner in crime too.  
  
"I do deny." Aone says. His voice is bolder now, and he dares to lift his head to look Moniwa in the eye. "I acted alone." Futakuchi strains to keep a straight face. Do not betray yourself, he commands. Aone wants to take the fall. He wants all of Moniwa's rage, all of the blame. Futakuchi remembers that Aone emphasized they must not kill anyone if possible in their effort. He did not want to add murder to his list of charges.  
  
He did not threaten Moniwa's life in this escape. He did not threaten Moniwa's throne. Even though they themselves knew that Moniwa was going to give Hinata to Lord Ushijima, the public had no knowledge of the exchange. Moniwa would not want to make such an exchange made known anyhow, considering that the ironborn loathed northern folk. It would make Moniwa seem weak.  
  
Futakuchi raises his head when he understands that they have Moniwa trapped. He cannot appear weak, but he must punish Aone in some way for what they did. The only crime he can truly accuse Aone of is freeing a prisoner. A prisoner who had no weight, no significance. Just an unransomable wildling. Although that is not a crime punishable by death, defying Moniwa at this time is a death sentence on its own.  
  
"For your crime, Aone, you will be stripped of your title as captain and your status as an ironborn." The lords and captains all look around, murmuring amongst themselves nervously. Even without a lordship or lands, Aone is one of the most prominent citizens in all of the Iron Isles. He is beloved by the sea itself, yet in a single statement, Moniwa has taken everything from him.  
  
"In your treachery, you are lower than even a thrall. You will have nothing in our isles anymore. No crew, no ship. Not even the right to call yourself one of us." Futakuchi watches Aone in the corner of his eye and sees his posture shows no hint of being broken. This is not the worst Moniwa could do to him.  
  
"Despite this," Moniwa grits out. "You are under our god's protection, and I will not see you hanged, drawn and quartered like you deserve. Instead, you will be flogged."  
  
"No—" Futakuchi utters. Moniwa's voice grows stronger to speak above the rumbling crowd.  
  
"You will be flogged until your back is bloodied and your skin broken and your sins paid for in the iron way. You are not iron anymore, and you will always bear the marks of your betrayal. Marks Futakuchi will give you, until I tell him to stop."  
  
Futakuchi stares openly from Moniwa to Aone and sees the look of horror spread across Aone's face. This. This is the worst that Moniwa could do.  
  
He refuses without a second thought, despite his hands beginning to shake. Moniwa stands, all black and gray and gold and fury.  
  
"Why refuse this, Futakuchi? Shouldn't you feel the most angry? Shouldn't you want to punish him? He betrayed not only the kingdom, but you. You above any other deserves to hold the whip." Futakuchi feels his heart in his mouth as Moniwa glares down at him.  
  
"If not you, I know Kamasaki would be more than efficient—"  
  
"No—!" Futakuchi chokes out. Aone had looked at him for just a moment, and that moment was more than enough to know what he must do. He tries not to break,  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
  
  
They await sunset. Futakuchi prays the entire time.  
  
"Please, god." Futakuchi sobs desperately. "Please, god, don't make me do this. Please save him, please."  
  
Futakuchi wonders if the Drowned One has ever listened to him. He prayed last long ago, when he was still under Kamasaki's influence, when he watched the sea and thought how good it would be to walk into its embrace and never come back. He prayed that god would help him, but no help came for months.  
  
"This is your son, your blessed child... don't abandon him. Please, protect him." His chest burns from heavy breaths, his eyes dry with no more tears to cry.  
  
Sunset comes.  
  
  
  
Wind threatens to extinguish the torches lighting the pathway outside castle Pyke. Of course Moniwa would order this done outside, Futakuchi thinks to himself. Even if he has ordered such a thing, he will not have god's favorite's blood spilled within his own castle. Now, that would be crossing the line, he muses sarcastically.  
  
Oiwake ascends the scaffolding steps to hand Futakuchi the whip. His expression is odd, almost pained.  
  
"Have faith." He murmurs. As he moves back down to where Moniwa stands watching, Futakuchi catches sight of Aone. He has already been stripped of his shirt, baring his scars and skin for all to see. The two guards make him kneel and fasten his hands to the two posts before they move to block the bottom of the staircase. Aone faces Moniwa directly, but his back is shown to their crew behind them. Mai's wet eyes watch from beside their lord. Kamasaki and Sasaya do not smile, but Futakuchi knows they are pleased.  
  
Stepping forward to assure that the fastenings are secure, he lays his hand on Aone's and squeezes. He cannot speak aloud the apologies he wishes to say, but Aone understands.  
  
"Be brave." He says, faith unending. Futakuchi moves away, unfurls the whip, and raises it high above his head.  
  
The twilight is silent around them. The only sound is the cracking whip and the crashing waves far below.  
  
By ten lashes, Mai hides her face in her hands. Aone grips the posts tightly, but does not bend.  
  
By twenty, Futakuchi can feel the tears wetting his cheeks. Aone's body twitches with each snap of the whip, and Futakuchi catches some of the other captains shaking their heads in disgust. Disgust for what, Futakuchi ponders as he raises the whip once more. Disgust for our crimes or disgust for what our lord is doing to the child of god?  
  
By thirty, there is blood dripping through the scaffolding. One of his hands slips out of the restraints, and Futakuchi must redo the bonds. He wants to speak, wants to beg for forgiveness, but no words come out. Aone would not want his apologies anyway.  
  
Forty, Koganegawa hurls. He can hear when Kogane's knees hit the ground, when Sakunami tearfully begs him to stand.  
  
"We must watch." She sobs, and Futakuchi realizes his hand has let go of the whip. The heavy braided handle thuds against the scaffold. Aone has been so quiet. Not a grunt nor hiss of pain. Futakuchi wonders if he has passed out from loss of blood.  
  
"Continue." Moniwa orders, but Futakuchi cannot see for the tears blocking his vision. "Continue or Kamasaki will, and I will not tell him to stop until Aone has no more blood to bleed."  
  
Futakuchi presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing himself not to weep.  
  
Please, god, he whispers inaudibly.  
  
"Kenji." Aone sighs. In a word, he tells Futakuchi to continue. You must, he seems to say. Trembling, Futakuchi picks the whip up again and raises it above his head. Forty one.  
  
Forty two. Forty three. Forty four. Forty five. six. Forty seven. Forty eight. Forty nine.  
  
When the count reaches fifty, Moniwa is satisfied. He calls for Futakuchi to stop. As soon as the whip drops from his hand, he feels someone else ascend the platform and rush past him. Mai tugs at the restraints until Aone is able to slump down against her. She whispers to him something that Futakuchi cannot register. He barely realizes Fukiage and Obara have followed her up to ease Aone to his feet and help him down. Moniwa tells her not to help, but she snaps.  
  
"He has suffered the punishment, now let him heal. Dare stop me, and I will bring the wrath of Great Wyk down upon this place."  
  
  
  
The eighth month gives way to the ninth before Mai comes to Old Wyk. Her eyes are less bright than before, her hair not as neatly kept. Futakuchi knows he is not one to be criticizing appearances; his beard has gone untouched for weeks, his bedroom in shambles. Koganegawa manages to keep the first floor clean enough, but he only dares climb the staircase if he has not seen Futakuchi in many hours.  
  
"He needs you." She says as she dips a cloth in the warm water bowl Koganegawa helpfully brought her. He can tell she has lost a little weight when he holds her thinner waist to steady her on his lap. The soap feels good against his skin, and soon, the razor's gentle kiss feels as good.  
  
"And you, my dear Kenji, you need him." He tilts his head back as guided and feels the sensation of the blade along his throat. It could have been the blade, Futakuchi mused days ago. With Moniwa's declaration that Aone was no longer ironborn, it would have not been a sin to spill his blood. It could have been the noose, Futakuchi thought as he stroked his hand along his neck one night. It could have been death.  
  
"Return to Great Wyk with me, Kenji. Please." She kisses the side of his clean face. Her lips linger there, and Futakuchi runs a hand up her back to hold her close. She has lost weight, he thinks distantly.  
  
  
  
Koganegawa rushes inside of Mai's solar while Futakuchi lingers at the doorway. The young Fukiage stands attending to Aone's back, a jar of salve in one hand. Aone lifts his head when Kogane approaches, and a weary smile crosses his face. Mai slips her hand into Futakuchi's and whispers that it is okay to enter. His back has closed, she informs, but the stitches will remain for another few days to be sure. Fukiage excuses himself as Koganegawa kneels before Aone and takes his hands. Like a reverent son, Koganegawa kisses Aone's hands.  
  
"I thank god — your god, that is — for protecting you. You are his blessed son." Futakuchi forgets some days that the kid is only fifteen years of age, but he looks like a child now before his father. He presses his forehead to Aone's hands to hide what they all know to be tears.  
  
"I don't know what I would have done is He took you from us," Kogane whispers frightfully. "You are my dear father, both of you are. You are my family. I am glad you are still here with us."  
  
  
  
Hammerhorn becomes their home for a week, and it is not an unusual sight. Sakunami chats with Mai's navigator, Koganegawa ohhs and ahhs at the stable full of horses. Futakuchi walks with Mai on his arm. He is silent when he is normally so talkative. Mai knows not to press Futakuchi to talk to Aone. The punishment, although physical for Aone, was an attack of Futakuchi's emotional and mental state.She explains as they look over the dark forests of Hardstone Hills that her family has governed for years,  
  
"He does not regret freeing the wildling boy. He only regrets that his actions caused you such pain." Futakuchi smells the sea even from this distance inland, and he wonders if god did hear his prayers.  
  
Onagawa ushers Fukiage out of the room quietly. The apprentice boy Mai is so fond of covers Aone with a silk blanket so he does not catch cold, but also so Futakuchi does not have to witness his handiwork once again. Futakuchi starts to pull up a chair in front of Aone, but the other wants him to sit next to him.  
  
"If it does not pain you." He adds softly, but Futakuchi does not deny him. He hands Aone a parcel as big as his forearm. When Aone looks at him with confusion, he says,  
  
"We missed your nameday, but I still wanted to give you a gift." Aone unwraps the gift and although the smile is small, Futakuchi sees it there. He lifts the dagger from its wrappings and examines it closely. It is fine steel and iron made, a good companion in desperate times.  
  
"I saw you were missing your dagger when you returned." Futakuchi murmurs against the silk covering Aone's shoulder. He had guessed that Aone either lost the dagger or gave it to the wildling boy. Aone is not so careless, so he knows it is the latter. Aone seems to hear him thinking too loud.  
  
"It was the right thing to do." Futakuchi tries to turn his body away, but Aone catches his wrist gently. Always gently. "I know you question Him, but I believe in His words to me. Hinata is needed to realize the reign of the true king."  
  
"Enough of that true king nonsense—" Futakuchi whispers tiredly, unable to rile himself up into an argumentative mood. They are meant to be healing, not tearing each other down again.  
  
"It is not nonsense, my love. I see the truth now, and the banished prince is meant to rule." He has never known Aone to lie without reason. He would not say such a thing if he did not feel it in his heart of hearts. Futakuchi reaches to cup Aone's jaw and press a kiss to his lips. This is a second chance. They are meant to be healing.  
  
Futakuchi tries to keep the strain off Aone's back as they hold each other that night. His legs feel familiar around Aone's waist, his lips are at home against Aone's. He chokes at the thought of seeing what his hand did to his lover's skin. It is dark out, and no candles are lit. He whispers Aone's name like a plea for forgiveness that Aone kisses away without hesitation. I love you, he says in return. I will always love you, he says earnestly.  
  
"I will never love anyone else as I love you." He says in the space between their two bodies. Futakuchi echoes wistfully,  
  
"Never."  
  
  
  
Aone still winces slightly when he moves too much, but Mai says his skin looks good without the stitches. She warned of sensitivity and warned them heavily against going into the sea. Fukiage travels home with them to see the work done by his lady is not undone by the two's typical tomfoolery. Onagawa grows to like tormenting the poor apprentice, and the crew feels more at ease as they watch their captains lace hands once more.  
  
They leave the little cabin sleeping sometime past midnight as they make their way on foot to the site of Nagga's bones. She stands as glorious as ever as they approach sunrise, and Futakuchi catches sight of their guest from the opposite direction. It is not his formal citizenship returned, but it is his welcome back into the faith, and that is what matters most for now.  
  
"Let Takanobu, your servant, be born again from the sea, as you were." Oiwake says as he pours a gently stream of sea water over Aone's head. "Bless him with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel."  
  
"What is dead may never die." He responds, unfazed. Oiwake's mouth twitches into an odd smile.  
  
"What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger." With the last drops of salt water, Aone inhales a deep breathe of sea air, and Futakuchi feels the sea surge closer to them. The Drowned God is pleased.  
  
Oiwake helps Aone to his feet and gives him an even stare before telling him welcome home.  
  
The priest disappears in the direction of the castle, but Futakuchi is too busy watching the sun inch higher across the eastern sea. Aone stands by his side and watches too. Without words, they both know they must return to Pyke.  
  
  
  
Standing outside the Great Hall, they hear shouting just before they are announced. Futakuchi and Aone force the heavy doors open with a grunt and find the cold stone covered in blood. They catch sight of a panicked Moniwa heaving at the far end of the room, beyond a massacred body with Kamasaki's beloved dagger through his eye socket. Sasaya kneels, clutching his bleeding cheek; despite his sins, Mai rushes to him in her instinct to heal. Futakuchi and Aone cautiously approach the body and without looking away from Kamasaki's blood-covered form, Futakuchi checks the man for a pulse. Not that even a god could save him now. Futakuchi does not miss the irony of a dagger-sized stab wound in the Lord Captain's hand. He wipes the blood off onto his breeches and watches their trembling liege lord. He glances back to see that Sasaya's cheek had almost been split open by the attacker's blade. Mai tears her skirt for material to staunch the bleeding.  
  
"My lord?" Futakuchi tries once, but he does not respond. "Moniwa?" The Reaper's head snaps up. His eyes are full of such fear. Not even an assassin could strike this much fear into one's heart. Not when Moniwa had avoided death twice in his life already.  
  
Futakuchi demands to know what happened. Moniwa rightens himself shakily and begins to speak,  
  
"I should tell you all the truth about the attack on the Arbor."


End file.
